


A Very Merry MorMor Advent Calendar 2019

by MajorityRim



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: (Non Graphic), Advent Calendar, Breakups, Christmas Angst, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Party, Coma, Death of a loved one, Drink Driving, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Magic, Meet-Cute, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Superpowers, Torture, Unrequited Love, accident caused by drunk driver, and being horny for it, fae!Jim, getting robbed, hitman - Freeform, netflix, netflix and chill but the chill is just because it's cold, please laugh at my jokes, snowstorm, stabbings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 32,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21628672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorityRim/pseuds/MajorityRim
Summary: A collection of shorts based on the 2019 Advent Calendar Challenge, inspired and thanks to Fandomlsza for asking me to participate! Tags will be updated as each fic is uploaded, and any warnings will be listed in the notes at the top.15. Midnight: They were supposed to meet at midnight, but the kidnappers are late.16. Baby Please Come Home: You've reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta.  (suicide non graphic)17. Wonder: Jim and Seb look at the stars18. Exhausted: Sebastian is questioned about just what he knows about Moriarty. He won't tell though, he'll never tell. CW Torture.19. Escape: Continuation from Exhausted, Sebastian makes a break for it when the opportunity presents itself.20. Christmas Gift: Sebastian isn't sure he should give Moriarty a gift, but he's willing to take the risk anyway.21. Winter: Sebastian's car breaks down and a stranger leads him through the woods in what Sebastian assumes is an attempt to help him out. He is wrong.
Relationships: Sebastian Moran & Jim Moriarty, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	1. Snowflake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FandomIsza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomIsza/gifts).



> Snowflake: A wild Karen appears while Sebastian is waiting in line for his coffee, apparently offended by the use of the phrase 'Happy Holidays'

The holiday season is in full swing, shoppers out all ready to fight to the death over the latest phone, or bike, or whatever video game is out that their little clammy filth goblins will scream about if they don’t find it under the tree. Sebastian does his best not to crash into one of many such mothers juggling children that excitedly pulled at their arms trying to get to the Santa on the corner as he crosses the street, dodging group of teenagers who apparently have about as much road sense as he does. It’s painfully busy and it almost makes Sebastian wish he were back in the desert contending with bullets instead. 

To make things worse, snow begins to fall in a direct threat to the shoes that while claim to be non slip are decidedly not. He’s already fallen over twice today and doesn’t really feel like doing it again and so pushes his way through so that he’s closer to the shop fronts where most people have tried to keep the snow clear from. He gets more than one unappreciative elbow to the side for his efforts and gives more than his fair share back. It’s a lot of effort just to get some caffeine and he really wishes he hadn’t bothered coming out.

All Sebastian wants was a coffee and maybe a muffin to go with it. Blueberries and chocolate chip, is it really so much to ask for? He’s glad that he’s got nobody to do shopping for, if outside the shops is chaos, inside must be much worse. People always become crazier in the holidays; it’s like a fight pit with no rules, all elbows and people cussing each other out as they pass by. 

Sebastian isn’t that much better really, but at least he cusses them out every day and not just through December. He has the decency to admit he’s a shitty person all year round. Probably why Santa never paid him a visit with the shiny new video game he wanted.

As he steps into the cafe and shakes his coat off, Sebastian groans inwardly at the long line that he has to contend with, his shoulders sinking just slightly. Normally the cafe isn’t all that busy. It is a popular spot but you don’t usually have to wait all that long to be served, and there is usually a place for you to sit if you want to. Today though the place is packed, it looks more like a pub on a Friday night with how many people have tried to cram themselves in somewhere, and the barista that Sebastian can see from his place all the way at the back of the line looks like she is just about ready to drown herself in the coffee to save herself a bit of stress. Sebastian doesn’t blame her, he just hopes she chooses to do that after he’s gotten his drink and muffin. 

The line moves slowly, only moving inches with the occasional bored voice of the other barista at the counter calling out an order or a name before the process began again. How the man behind the counter manages to stay so nonplussed is beyond Sebastian, but at least he isn’t crying and holding up the process that way. Sebastian would rather an unamused and unbothered barista than one that is having a mental breakdown over caramel and espresso.

The woman in front of Sebastian doesn’t seem to hold the same opinion.

Her foot is tapping so fast that you could probably jive to it, and she’s got her arms crossed so tightly over herself that Sebastian is genuinely surprised that she hasn’t broken her own ribs. She lets out an irritated scoff about once every other second, and as the line moves inch by inch, that bored voice calling out ‘next’ with about as much conviction as a limp bit of bread she actually goes so far as to turn around, look at Sebastian in all of his very non bothered 6 foot 3 cold as fuck glory and asks—

“Can you believe this?” 

“What?” Sebastian takes a moment to realise that she’s even talking to him, he’s still fixated on the idea of doing a jive to her annoying as hell tapping. “Oh the line? Yeah, pretty crazy.” He figures that she’ll be able to tell by his tone that he doesn’t really care, but apparently she’s happy to have a sounding board on the matter. 

“It’s unbelievable, why don’t they have more staff, better staff, don’t they know we all have places to be?” 

She looks at Sebastian like she is expecting him to agree with her. He shrugs with a grimace instead, and pointedly looks over her head to the line. It’s not that bad, it’s a pain, but he’s not going to get his knickers in a twist over some coffee. The woman responds to his non committal gesture with an outraged snort of air and turns back around to harass the woman in front of her instead. Sebastian mostly drowns her out, but appreciates the phrase ‘uneducated milk warmers’ for it’s creativity. 

The line continues to move forward, and mostly tuned out from the world around him Sebastian only realises that he’s close to the front by a new outraged sound from the woman in front of him. What’s it people call these women? Kelly’s? Karen’s? That sounds about right. 

‘Karen’ has her hands on her hips now, and Sebastian only wishes he could see her face given that the barista in front her her who’s name-tag says ‘Jim’ in a spidery scrawl has gone from bored to slightly amused, the corner of his lip turned up as he chews his gum. 

“What did you say to me?” Karen demands. Jim raises his eyebrows and sucks in air through his teeth like he’s used to dealing with this sort of person or with that question in particular. 

“I said ‘Happy Holidays ma’am, what can I get for you today.’ Accent’s a bit thick, I’ll speak a little slower.” 

“Happy Holidays?” The outrage is laughable, Sebastian didn’t think people like this were real, but there’s a first for everything apparently. 

“Yeah.” Jim replies. “Because it’s the holidays.” 

“It’s Christmas!” Karen shouts. People are looking over, dozens of eyes careful not to look like they’re looking as she continues her tirade. “Can’t we say Christmas anymore?” 

“We try and create an inclusive and positive environment in which all people of all faiths-” Jim is cut off from his obviously scripted response before he can get all the way through it.

“It’s CHRISTMAS!” Karen repeats the phrase as if it’ll hold more weight the second time. “What kind of hippy PC culture are you trying to shove down my throat! I just want my coffee, I deserve not to be accosted for celebrating Christmas, I shouldn’t be attacked for coming out and wanting my coffee!” 

“Just order the damn thing then you old bat.” Sebastian mutters from behind her. She swings around all red in the face looking a lot like father Christmas herself, though it’s not all jolly cheeks and laughs for her. Sebastian tries not to laugh himself, he bites at his tongue just to keep the sound from coming out. 

“What did you just say to me?” It comes out fast, so that it sounds more like whatdidyoujustsaytome, but Sebastian gets the point. He’s gone and upset her. Tragic really, poor her. 

“If you just want your coffee, order it. Don’t need to be told Merry Christmas to order a drink, surely.” He offers.

“I have a religious right to-” 

“Order the fucking coffee already, I want my muffin.” Sebastian holds up his hand to stop her from speaking, but it apparently only makes her madder. He spots somebody with their phone out recording and can see Jim over Karen’s head looking more and more amused with every moment that passes. “Who gives a shit if it’s happy holidays or merry Christmas it’s all the same, what’s wrong with being inclusive?” Sebastian doesn’t care all that much, he isn’t there to give some lecture on the whole matter, he’s there for a coffee, just like all the people behind him, and all the people already with their drinks.

“Oh and I suppose I should start-” Sebastian shushes her again. 

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. Don’t be an arsehole.” 

“You snowflakes are all the same! Got to have it your way!” Karen could unhinge her jaw right now, let out a primal scream like some fucking dinosaur and Sebastian honestly wouldn’t be surprised. The irony of her statement isn’t lost on Sebastian but he decides not to press the matter any further. He’s about to tell her to just fuck off and leave, but before he has the chance she makes some miniature impassioned speech about how she’ll ‘never buy from here again’ and that she’s going to tell ‘all of her friends to go somewhere else as well’, and that she’s being ‘persecuted for her religious belief’ 

Jim the barista smacks his gum with a smile. 

“Next please.” 

Sebastian steps forward and places his order. When he gets his coffee in it’s cheerful non descript holiday cup, there’s a phone number scrawled underneath his name, and a cheeky ‘Happy Holidays’ penned under that. 

Maybe the holiday season has some perks after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a cap on how much you can write in a fic description so here's a contents for ya ;) 
> 
> Full contents: 
> 
> 1\. Snowflake: A wild Karen appears while Sebastian is waiting in line for his coffee, apparently offended by the use of the phrase 'Happy Holidays'  
> 2\. Wish: The boys talk Christmas Traditions, and a confession is made.  
> 3\. The More The Merrier: The table is set for five  
> 4\. Lights: Sebastian and Jim met in a hospital, after Sebastian had been in a wreck, and Jim had been 'unfortunately injured preparing some fish'  
> 5\. Wind: The boys get caught in a cabin in a snowstorm, but at least they have WiFi  
> 6\. Angel: It isn't an angel that comes to Sebastian Moran as he's dying, it's Jim Moriarty  
> 7\. Ashes and Soot: They say that manifestations happen from a strong emotional response to a situation. Sebastian's was a fight for his life, Jim's was rage. (character death)  
> 8\. Warm Bath  
> 9\. Festive: The Holiday Season is Jim's favourite time of the year, mostly because it means there's an influx of work.  
> 10\. Once A Year: Their anniversary is December 24th. Was December 24th  
> 11\. Chimney: Seb's getting robbed, and he's horny for it.  
> 12: Bah Humbug: CW: homophobic language, suicidal themes, angst, domestic abuse  
> 13\. Family: Sebastian takes Jim home for Christmas, it doesn't go well. CW heavily implied homophobia  
> 14\. Not a Creature was Stirring: Jim and Sebastian had an unconventional first meeting.  
> 15: Midnight: They were supposed to meet at midnight, but the kidnappers are late.  
> 16: Baby Please Come Home: You've reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta  
> 17\. Wonder: Jim and Seb look at the stars  
> 18\. Exhausted: Sebastian is questioned about just what he knows about Moriarty. He won't tell though, he'll never tell. CW Torture.  
> 19\. Escape: Continuation from Exhausted, Sebastian makes a break for it when the opportunity presents itself.  
> 20\. Christmas Gift: Sebastian isn't sure he should give Moriarty a gift, but he's willing to take the risk anyway.  
> 21\. Winter: Sebastian's car breaks down and a stranger leads him through the woods in what Sebastian assumes is an attempt to help him out. He is wrong.


	2. Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Jim talk Christmas Traditions over eggnog and the London skyline, and a confession is made.

They sat up on the hillside overlooking London’s night-scape, the twinkle of lights not unlike the twinkle of the lights on their Christmas tree at home. Jim was in his newest thousand pound coat and rugged up with the scarf and beanie that Sebastian had packed extra knowing that he’d eventually demand Sebastian’s own, and Sebastian was comfortable in his old leather jacket that he’d owned before he’d even heard of such a thing as a consulting criminal. It was nice; a quiet evening away from the bustle of Jim’s chaotic empire, eggnog that was more brandy than eggnog keeping them warm as they sat on the worn wooden bench sat on the overlook. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve stepped away, I reckon I should convince of this more often.” Sebastian hands the thermos full of eggnog over to Jim, eyes watching the night sky in front of them. “It’s nice.” 

Jim lets out a low hum in return, his eyes aren’t looking out at London, watching instead the man beside him. “It is.” 

Sebastian shifts on the seat, hard wood doing nothing for his cold arse and Jim’s eyes turn away to look over London instead. They go several long moments before either of them speak again and it’s a Christmas miracle that Jim doesn’t pull his phone out to check if his empire has crumbled in the forty five minutes they’ve been away. 

“Maybe we should make it a tradition.” Sebastian offers as he shifts again. He leans back on the bench to stretch his arms, spine cracking as he does. “Bring out a blanket next time and the like, could be nice.” 

“Traditions require and presume a level of stability that I’m not interested in.” Jim shakes his head. “Not to mention the dangers of a tradition, coming back every year just means that every year we risk the chance of being shot at because we felt like getting sentimental about a patch of snow.” 

“Alright then, not Christmas traditions.” Sebastian laughs too used to Jim’s incessant need to never be predictable to be all that hurt by his suggestion being shot down. Maybe next year they can find another spot to sit instead, a tradition that moves around, that way they can’t be ‘shot at’ and Sebastian can still enjoy the peace and quiet that the outskirts of London have to offer.

“They’re all nonsense anyway.” Jim agrees. He takes a long drink from the thermos before passing it back over. They’re both pleasantly buzzed, maybe Jim moreso than Sebastian who’s closer to drunk, and there’s a chance they’ll have to kip in the car if they want to get home safe. There’s plenty of blankets in the back, Sebastian planned ahead. It won’t be that bad, the car is comfortable enough and while Jim might make an absolute fuss about the comfort of his bed, both men can sleep just about anywhere. Jim will take the back and Sebastian the front, then in the morning Sebastian will make sure Jim buckles himself in and drive them both home. 

“Nah, they’re just a bit of harmless fun.” Sebastian assures, “Used to have this tradition of making a wish on Christmas eve, my mum started it, or I guess maybe my Grandmother, I used to wish for all sorts of stuff. Once I wished that my old man would fall down the stairs and break his neck, worried for six months that it would come true and I’d be arrested for murder.” 

Jim snorts at that. He turns to look at Sebastian again and shakes his head. 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say, and I’ve heard you say some appallingly stupid things Sebastian.” 

“I was eight.” Sebastian says as if it’ll change Jim’s mind in anyway. “I thought the faeries or whatever would frame me for murder.” 

“The faeries aren’t going to frame you for murder, Sebastian.” Jim knocks on the wood of the bench beside him, chasing any away that might be listening, superstitious in the strangest of times, “I’m more likely to do that.” 

There’s a pause of silence again, comfortable and full of Jim’s amused judgment for fearing framing faeries. 

“I wish I could find that tie I lost in September.” Jim says for a moment Sebastian’s confused as to what he’s even saying before he realises that he’s either being mocked further or Jim’s willingly participating in the tradition. 

“I wish that new rifle part I want would finally come back into stock.” He offers in return. 

“I wish for a million wishes.” Jim says next. Sebastian laughs at that, the bark carries out and echos over London before it’s swallowed by the distant sound of car horns and commuters. 

“I wish for a Tesla, or just a car that’s smart, a smart car, one that can take commands like Alexa” Sebastian laughs. “I’ll call it Nigel or something like that.” 

There’s a beat, and then-

“I wish I could get my brain to stop running at a million miles an hour, that’d be nice.” Jim says nonchalantly. “Wish it would just stop for ten seconds and let me breathe.” 

“I wish my hands wouldn’t shake when there’s some unexpected fireworks.” Sebastian says in the same tone. Something shifts between them.

“Oh, and I wish I didn’t have nightmares.”

“Christ fuck I wish I didn’t have nightmares either.” 

The both of them fall back into silence again, it’s now thick and presses against them. The pass the thermos between themselves again and again, getting drunker and drunker. 

“I wish I could-” Jim’s words are slurred, his voice hitches just slightly, in the way that only Sebastian might notice having spent so much time with the man. “-I love you, wish I could just stop that, makes me weak, wish I could stop loving you. Doesn’t that sound so awful, so disgusting, love.” 

Jim’s rambling, lost in his own head and drunk, but Sebastian can only focus on part of what he said. Jim Moriarty loves him. The Napoleon of crime, the most dangerous man in London has feelings for him. He freezes, no idea how to reply to that. He goes for the thermos but it’s empty. 

“You love me?” He asks. 

“Yep.” Jim extends the word, the p pops from his mouth with a satisfying crack. 

“I’m-” Sebastian tries to find the right words, he’s fairly drunk too. “I don’t-” 

“Oh shutup I know that.” Jim sounds miserable, sounds tired and resigned to his fate. “Why do you think I made that wish? I wanted to kiss you up here, thought about all sorts of things, real hallmark movie shit you wouldn’t believe the things I thought about.” 

“You’re drunk,” Sebastian offers. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” Jim snaps. “God, get out of my hair, go to the car like a good boy and don’t you dare say a word, don’t even breathe near me. Go away, go AWAY Sebastian.” 

Sebastian stands up stiffly, mind still reeling. He walks to the car, unlocks it and climbs in. 

He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s fairly sure that if he stays here Jim will kill him. He’ll find some way to kill Sebastian to cover everything up. He turns the key in the ignition and pulls away; he can see Jim still there on the bench, shoulders hunched, head in his hands as he fades into the darkness of the night. 

Christmas traditions can go fuck themselves. Jim raps his closed fist on the wood again and again until his knuckles are bloody, chasing away bad luck and evil spirits in some drunken hope that both Sebastian and he forget everything by the morning. He barely registers that Sebastian has even left. The Brandy will keep him warm enough for the night, and at least his scarf smells of Sebastian. At least he’s got that around him. It’s no arm around his shoulder, but Jim’s a fool if he thinks a man like him will ever deserve something so tender as that.


	3. The More The Merrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The table is set for five.

The table is set for five. Jim had considered inviting others but in the end he hadn’t actually wanted anybody else there. As it was he’d relented and sent an invitation out to both Richard and his current partner. He hadn’t wanted to, he’d wanted to keep the dinner strictly within the family but he knew, he just knew that Richard would have told him off for not considering his partner of six years a part of the family. 

“You need to accept that he’s who makes me happy,” Richard would have said. His arms would have been crossed and some of the anger would have been lost in translation all swallowed up in those over-sized cardigans that Richard favoured. Over-sized cardigans that Jim had bought him; over-sized cardigans that Richard had worn while he and Jim sat on the lounge room floor drunk on wine and laughing at increasingly absurd plans to take over the world. 

They haven’t done that in so long. Richard has chosen his acting over their life of crime; made a good name for himself on children’s TV and occasionally on some cheesy soap. He rarely comes to dinner anymore but Jim had assumed that his brother would have made the exception for Christmas. 

As kids they’d shoved whatever food they could steal into their pockets and run off to their hidden woodland wonderland for their own Christmas traditions. There’s no need to steal food now, and Jim bitterly wonders if that’s why Richard doesn’t want to come to dinner. 

He knows it’s not really the reason. Richard and he haven’t spoken for months, he wasn’t even granted the courtesy of a decline to his invitation. The two seats sit empty across from him as hollow reminders of the times that his brother and he had. Twins are supposed to be inseparable, that’s what all the books and movies and songs in the world claim. They do get one thing right though; Jim is left with a aching need that he knows can only be cured by the physical presence of his brother. 

He really thought that he would have come to dinner, Jim even took the time decorate the entire flat the way that Richard loves, an explosion of tinsel and a Christmas tree to rival all others. Jim has high ceilings and even then it had been a tight squeeze to fit the tree in. There must be a thousand lights on it, at night it illuminates the entire lounge so that Jim doesn’t need to turn on any lights but instead sit in it’s twinkling colourful glow as if he’s a child again. 

Severin’s spot is empty too though Jim expected him least of all to attend. It was more a formality to invite him than anything else. Come if you want to, if you don’t it’s understandable. The two of them had almost come to enjoy each others company in the end, it was a shame to lose the rambunctious and at most times infuriating Moran; though Jim wasn’t likely to ever tell Severin, his company was enjoyable. 

Sebastian is the only person who gets a free pass from not coming to the table and that’s because he’s dead. 

Jim had set it for him on instinct. By the time he realised what he had done it hurt too much to put the plate and bonbon away. Sebastian’s favourite whiskey glass sits by an empty plate with cheerful cartoon characters of reindeer prancing around the boarder. 

Jim stands up in a rush, his chair crashing down behind him. He picks the glass up and hurls it at the wall. It shatters, glass exploding everywhere. Later Jim will find it in his feet and he’ll track blood to the bathroom to pull the shards out. For now he leaves it and retrieves his chair to sit back down. His throat is tight and he’s glad that nobody has turned up lest they see the state he’s steadily working himself into. 

He pours himself a glass of wine, downs it, and helps himself to the roast centred on the table. 

Sebastian usually does the cooking, usually did the cooking, and Jim’s awful food is a testament to why that was. He eats it out of spite. To hell with all of them. 

He rips his bonbon in half with a loud crack that fills the silence and puts on his Christmas crown. It’s red, matches his stupid festive tie he’d bothered to go and buy. 

He pours himself another glass of wine.

He eats like that, through glasses of wine barely making a dent in the food laid out for the dinner. He had prepared for two Moran’s to be at the table, those boys eat so much as if they had never moved on from growing teenagers. 

The food is woeful, he washes it down with more wine, runs out of the bottle he’s drinking from and stands to get another. 

On his way back Jim pulls out his phone to play Christmas carols over his speakers. We Wish You A Merry Christmas echos off empty walls and fills up the spaces previously left by silence. 

It’s snowing outside. Richard loves the snow. 

Jim draws the curtains and turns the twinkling Christmas lights on. He drinks another bottle and a half of wine and drops the Christmas pudding on the floor when he drunkenly tries to bring it to the table to present to the rest of his absent family. 

There’s a knock on the door but Jim ignores it. Neighbours come to complain about the noise no doubt. Let the Grinch’s suffer. He turns it up just to spite them. He’s so drunk that he can barely make sense of what song is playing. It might be Michael Buble, Jim doesn’t know, he doesn’t care, he just cares that it’s loud enough to annoy the neighbours.

The knocking continues. 

Jim picks himself off the ground from where he’s been sat with his ruined pudding and stumbles over to the door. His stupid crown keeps slipping, and as he throws the door open to tell his neighbour to piss off he almost loses his balance completely. 

Severin Moran catches him in the doorway with one arm. He’s got a bottle of wine in one hand and a wrapped gift in the other. As Jim’s wine addled brain takes it’s time to catch up with whatever is happening, Severin sets him back upright. It’s obvious that Severin has been crying but there’s that same horrendous lopsided grin on his face that he’s always got. 

“Falling for me already, Jim? I haven’t even given you your gift yet.” His voice cracks as he speaks, but he manages to keep the smile on his face. “Gonna let me in?” 

“You’re late.” Jim replies coldly stepping back. “All the food’s cold, you can deal with that. Also I dropped the pudding so if you want any you can get a fork and eat it off the ground.” 

Jim isn’t even sure that his sentences come out as anything that resembles words. They slush about in his mouth as he tries to say them, his jaw tingles as if it’s not really attached. 

“Right-o” Sebastian’s reply doesn’t really help him know if he’s made sense. No, Severin’s reply. Sebastian’s dead.

“Oh cool, floor pudding my favourite. How’d you know?” Severin replies. He walks over to the Christmas tree and puts his present down underneath it. There’s other presents there, one for each of those invited to dinner, even one for Richard’s partner. Jim will have to return them all. 

Well not all of them, Severin is here. 

“Come-on, Jim-bo come sit down.” Severin calls walking over to the table. He glances at it briefly before taking the seat Jim had intended for him, the seat beside his brother. He takes his bonbon and holds it out for Jim to pull with him. Jim obliges. Severin gets a green crown. 

Jim takes his seat back at the head of the table and pulls cold roast meat towards him. 

“Good turnout.” Severin jokes. Jim glares daggers in the general direction of the Moran, it’s hard to tell where he starts and ends with all the wine in his system. 

“Yeah, I suppose not.” Severin turns his gaze back down to the cold ruined meal on his plate. He shudders, and while Jim can’t make out any features he’s sure that he’s began to cry. 

Jim refills his glass and leans back in his chair. At least somebody turned up. He’s sure that Severin will like his Christmas gift. Though then again the man will also willingly eat Jim’s floor pudding, so that’s not saying all that much. 

The hollow space carved out by Sebastian and Richard’s absence is filled only slightly by Severin, but then again, neither Jim nor Rin have ever been whole men.


	4. Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, drug use
> 
> Years ago when Sebastian Moran first met Jim Moriarty he’d been wheeled into a hospital barely conscious with a team of doctors trying to save his life. He’d crashed his car, too high on coke to see straight and been very lucky to get out alive. It had taken months of recovery and a reminder every step of the way that he should count his lucky stars he hadn’t died. His family weren’t so thrilled of course, young and supposed to be studying at Eton he had promised to be the model student. 
> 
> Jim had found that funny, told him that Sebastian had been the model student, it was just the model of what not to be like.

Years ago when Sebastian Moran first met Jim Moriarty he’d been wheeled into a hospital barely conscious with a team of doctors trying to save his life. He’d crashed his car, too high on coke to see straight and been very lucky to get out alive. It had taken months of recovery and a reminder every step of the way that he should count his lucky stars he hadn’t died. His family weren’t so thrilled of course, young and supposed to be studying at Eton he had promised to be the model student. 

Jim had found that funny, told him that Sebastian had been the model student, it was just the model of what not to be like. 

He found it funnier still when he worked out that he had sold the drugs to Sebastian’s friend that had led Sebastian to the crash. To be completely honest, Sebastian had found that fairly funny too. They’d howled for hours on the couch about it, until neither of them could breathe, until both of them where near crying. It hadn’t been that funny, but to them, their accidental history together brought them more joy than it ought. 

Sebastian was thrown out of Eton and his parents bought his way into Oxford to save face. Couldn’t have a Moran not finish their studies. Jim attended alongside him already an enrolled student though in a different course, they shared a dorm together, and then an apartment, and eventually a bed. 

Years ago when Sebastian first met Jim Moriarty Jim was having stitches put in for what he said was a drunken accident trying to prepare fish in the kitchen after too much wine. They had met in the courtyard both getting fresh air, Jim with a cigarette in his mouth and Sebastian itching for some blow. They had talked for hours, and Jim had amusedly explained how it wasn’t an accident in a kitchen but what he called a ‘professional disagreement.’

He’d been stabbed because he’d confronted one of his sellers about skimming money off the top. Sebastian never did find out what happened to the other guy, just the assurance that he hadn’t won the argument and certainly wasn’t selling drugs for Jim anymore. 

Given how creative Jim could be when he was mad at someone, Sebastian doubted the guy was living his life a little poorer but with his life still in tact, that’s if he had his life at all. 

Jim still sold drugs but Sebastian got clean, mostly on the advice of Jim after explaining to Sebastian just what he did to up profits by mixing all sorts of things into the drugs themselves, and they developed a strong bond. Sebastian left to go off to war and Jim vowed never to speak to him again, but when Sebastian came back with a body that had been half digested by a tiger and a few more scars he couldn’t quite vocalise Jim took him back all the same, showed Sebastian just what he’d been up to and offered him a position in his merry little Criminal Empire. 

They became feared men, respected men. 

And then one day, Sebastian Moran woke up. 

Looking up at the hospital roof was alarming more than anything else. He felt like utter shit, couldn’t remember how he’d got there, but knew Jim would be somewhere close or at the very least have eyes on him and that everything would be explained soon enough. He had a private room by the looks of it, flowers by his bedside table just out of focus as he tried to make sense of what was going on. 

His limbs felt heavy, unable to move, and a spike of fear washed over him. What had happened? And more importantly if he was in this sort of condition, where the fuck was Jim? 

Machines beeped erratically around him, and a doctor followed by a nurse came quickly to the sound. 

“Jim.” He said, a demand he couldn’t quite fully form. There was no way Jim would leave him under the care of somebody not on the empires payroll, wouldn’t risk that kind of breach of security. The doctor was no doubt armed, though in his haze Sebastian couldn’t pick out the telltale signs of a weapon. “Jim.” 

His throat felt so dry, his tongue a lump in his mouth mostly useless. 

“It’s alright Mr. Moran, you’re in Hospital, there’s no need to worry.” No fucking shit he was in a hospital. Sebastian stopped arching his neck in an attempt to see anything, his whole head swimming as he let it fall back down to the pillow. Everything went grey and then black as he fell back under, and though he was asleep, he could have sworn that he could hear delighted Irish laughter and feel the cold press of fingers against his cheek. 

The first time somebody tries to explain that Sebastian has been in a coma for two years, that his whole life including every moment with Jim Moriarty was some sort of fucked up dream-scape he’ll likely never get back to, he nearly kills them. He wraps his hands around their throat and does his best to choke the life out of them. It takes four doctors to pull him off and sedate him. 

Sebastian cries for hours, too emotionally spent to try and process the loss of a man who never even existed. He screams because he can’t think of any other way to cope, shouts all sorts of things at Jim for leaving him before realising that it was he himself that left Jim. 

His heart seizes in his chest; what is Jim supposed to do without him? He never remembers to eat, has to be dragged to bed most days to get even a couple hours sleep, he never learnt to drive, what about their anniversary that’s supposed to be coming up. December 24, they always go and egg the carolers, even as grown men they egg the damn carolers. Jim needs him there. 

He doesn’t realise that he’s trying to leave the hospital until somebody manages to get through his haze of panic. 

Jim Moriarty isn’t real, they remind him, he’s not missing Sebastian, he never existed. 

But how can something that feels so real never have happened? 

It takes Sebastian a month before he can look in a mirror without a complete breakdown. Every time he tries before that he can’t make sense of what he’s looking at. Younger, leaner than he was with Jim, pale from so much time in a bed. He checks his whole body over in the shower to look for signs of his life. No scars from hunting tigers, no scars from letting himself be hunted by Jim. No bullet holes, no stab wounds, no marks around his neck from the time somebody tried to hang him. His face is a blank canvas, there’s no tattoos, no spidery scrawl etched into his collarbone—

Eventually, they discharge him and let him leave. As it turns out, the part about him crashing his car high on cocaine was real, Sebastian wonders briefly if he can find out who sold his friend the drug. When he asks his friend they shrug, apologise and say that it was some white woman from the suburbs. Decidedly not Jim Moriarty. 

Sebastian searches for him, does the best he can too look for the man but theres nobody that even resembles him. Jim was always a ghost of course, but Sebastian knew him better than anybody, if there were to be a Jim out there in the real world, Sebastian would be the one to find him. 

Eventually so desperate to see Jim again, Sebastian turns back to the coke. He realises pretty quick though that the coke isn’t going to give him what he wants. He considers killing himself to get back to Jim that way but doesn’t want to run the risk of that not working either, it isn’t like he can just undo that. 

After a year of obsessive searching Sebastian isn’t even sure that the life he’s got now is real. Makes sense that if he thought he was living in reality once he could be wrong again now. Maybe before was real and somethings happened, maybe he’s in a coma, maybe he’s in a hospital bed still and Jim is waiting for him to wake up. 

He needs to wake up. He needs to wake up for Jim, for them to be back together, for his life to be back the way it’s supposed to be. 

He stops going out, stops talking to people. Moves out of his family estate by threatening his parents with all their dirty little secrets, gets them to buy him a house in the countryside where he can try and work out how to get back to Jim in peace. He gets nowhere with it, can’t work out how to wake up, drinks himself into a stupor most nights, uses the coke to keep him working through the days. Jim has to be real, he has to be, no dream could have that much of an impact on Sebastian, he’s in a coma now, he just needs to hear Jim’s voice so he knows where to run to. Needs a sign so he can work out which way is up, so he knows what to do to get back to his life. 

Years pass and no sign comes, not a single damn one. But Sebastian won’t give up. 

He walks out into the snow on December 24 years and years and years after falling into his coma. He’s still so sure that it isn’t where he’s supposed to be. Lately he hasn’t been well, can barely stand up, he’s vomiting all the time. Sebastian makes balls of snow with his hands until he can’t physically stand, he sits down in the snow surrounded by piles of snowballs and feels his chest seize. He’s probably dying, but Sebastian can only be happy about it. He’s going back to Jim, he’ll hold him in his arms again. He’ll be able to tell him about all about what it’s like to be in a coma, he’ll like that; Jim always loves new information. 

He looks up to the sky and expects to see hospital lights above him once more. 

The sky is oddly dark. Sebastian wonders just when those lights will come.


	5. Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. Wind: The boys are stuck in a cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, but at least they have WiFi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with this one so decided to procrastinate by watching reviews of bad Christmas Movies. 
> 
> Who knew that could be inspirational?

Jim stands by the window of their cabin with a hot cup of tea in his hands and watches the snowstorm continue to rage outside. It’s almost impossible to see, white lashing against more white, banks of snow built up blocking their way out back towards London. 

“WiFi is working again,” Sebastian calls from the couch. “Want to put on NetFlix? We can probably find some crappy Christmas Movie to watch, kill the time.” 

“Mn,” Jim doesn’t shift his gaze from the window, his tone light but irritated. “I suppose.” 

“Jim, watching the snow isn’t going to make it melt any faster. Weather reports say that there’s still at least another day of this.” Sebastian turns on the couch to look at the other man before sighing. “Come-on, I’ll put some more wood in the fire and we can enjoy a bit of downtime.”

“The Queen of England couldn’t stop me, and yet a little snow can. Hours of meetings, business plans, all down the drain.” 

“To be fair, the Queen isn’t exactly that fit,” Sebastian jokes. “Mother Nature is a little more buff than her.” 

Jim snorts and turns around with a questioning gaze. 

“That’s really the joke you want to go with?” He asks. Sebastian shrugs with a lopsided grin.

“Got you to turn around, didn’t it?” 

It wasn’t always this easy to be so casual with Jim, it took Sebastian a long time to learn where Moriarty ended and Jim began, and to be honest he isn’t completely sure he knows where those lines are, but he’s learned enough to know how to keep the man from falling into some workless depression whenever he can’t get his hands on the type of thing that he requires to keep sane. Terrible jokes work well, so does a bit of disco, and surprisingly baking channels. Jim says the latter is because it’s all chemistry that you can eat without dying, but Sebastian suspects it also has something to do with the mans sweet tooth. 

Jim wanders over with all the enthusiasm of a child being dragged along behind a parent and deposits himself on the couch, instantly taking the care to spread himself as far over it as possible. He rests his back on the arm of the couch and hooks his ankles together in Sebastian’s lap, sipping from his tea as he does. 

“What movie do you want to watch then?” 

“I was going to go to their selection and scroll all the way to the bottom, see what’s last on their list of recommendations.” Sebastian opens NetFlix on the TV and begins his search, “Figured that was a good method.” 

“I didn’t know you planned to torture me out here.” Jim replies dryly. “You’re a cruel man, Mr. Moran.” 

“That’s why you hired me.” Sebastian hums pleasantly. 

They end up watching a baking show that’s entirely Christmas themed that’s also entirely about people who can’t bake which they both enjoy. They end up watching both seasons of ‘Nailed It! Holiday’ Jim shouting at the TV about how wrong the contestants are and Sebastian laughing at both Jim’s cries of anguish at the baked goods travesty on screen and the contestants themselves. 

It’s a peaceful reprieve from their otherwise hectic year, and Sebastian finds himself thanking the snowstorm for the chance to relax with the man he loves. 

Maybe they’ll come out again next year, if the weather is looking particularly bad.


	6. Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn't an angel that comes to Sebastian Moran as he's dying, it's Jim Moriarty

It isn’t an angel that comes to Sebastian Moran in his last moments, it’s Jim Moriarty. It’s the distant clack of shoes on the concrete of the warehouse, it’s the well tailored slacks that come into view only inches away from Sebastian’s head as the man crouches down beside him and tuts, rolling Sebastian over only slightly to survey the damage. He’s aware that his face probably looks like a Picasso, that his nose isn’t where it ought to be, that his eyes are both swollen so badly that they’re almost shut. He’s almost dead, can barely breath through all the damage, Sebastian’s fairly certain that he’s punctured a lung and that he’s got more than a little internal bleeding. If somebody squeezed him right now he’d probably end up acting much like a sauce bottle, just throw it all up over those nice Italian leather shoes. 

“Keep him alive, I want this one.” The Irish drawl is unmistakable, and it’s what alerts Sebastian to the fact that it’s Moriarty at all. He’s heard of the man of course, who in the London underground hasn’t, but he never expected to come face to face with the man. Or face to shoes, really, it’s too hard to look up, Sebastian’s not even sure he could communicate to his body that he wants to look up. Several other people come over, all blurry and out of shot, and somebody says something about getting a stretcher and a van or something along those lines. 

It isn’t an angel that’s come for him, Sebastian realises, because he’s not going to die. 

He’s been working freelance for about eight months. The sad truth of it all is that an army pension doesn’t extend to those kicked out of the club in the way Sebastian was and gambling doesn’t pay the bills when people keep catching you cheating. Not that Sebastian has any sort of reservations about the type of work that he’s picked up, he’s good with a sniper rifle and he’s never really cared about who is on the other end. Maybe that’s why Moriarty chooses to spare him though of course that implies that Moriarty knows who he is and Sebastian realises as he’s being loaded up onto a stretcher to be seen to that maybe he’s acting a little self important. 

It’s more likely that he’s been picked for interrogation. The absolute shit show that just went down demands a couple of answers and Moriarty is no doubt keen to get them. 

He closes his eyes and tries to think of an escape plan. Something tells him that the questions will start before he’s got full use of his legs again though, so really Sebastian should be thinking about just what he’s willing to go through for a client. He’s sat through interrogations before, Sebastian knows he can take it, but he’s not sure he can be entirely bothered. He’s almost certain that the small drug lord he was working for was shot in the crossfire anyway. He’d just been there to collect his check, it’s got to be the worst case of wrong place at the wrong time that Sebastian’s ever found himself in. 

They take him to a hospital that’s just another warehouse that happens to be kitted out to function like an actual hospital and Sebastian is right, they are planning on interrogating him. 

It’s about a week after the gunfight that Sebastian finds himself tied to a chair, woken with a bucket of icy water, stripped down to nothing but his pants. 

“Oh good you’re awake.” Moriarty says cheerfully. “I assume you know who I am.” 

“Recognise your voice anywhere.” Sebastian cracks a lazy grin, he knows how this works, can’t show any fear or weakness, can’t let them think they’re getting under his skin. “I liked the job you had be do last month, always enjoy a challenge.” 

“I was impressed with the results.” Moriarty replies conversationally. He takes a chair about a meter and a half away from Sebastian, crosses his legs and folds his hands neatly in his lap as he rolls a small pocketknife over in them. “You took the shot from quite a distance.” 

“Was showing off.” Sebastian supplies. “Good advertisement that.” 

“You certainly caught the eyes of a lot of people.” 

“I’m used to it.” 

Sebastian’s not sure if this is an interrogation or a speed date. Rumour has it that if you see Moriarty’s face you die, except of course for his inner circle. Sebastian wants to try and be hopeful that he’s heading towards the latter, but he’s no idiot. 

Moriarty for his part seems amused by the banter. He cants his head to one side and then the other, giving Sebastian a once over where he’s strapped to the chair with an appraising look and clicks his tongue. 

“I can see why.” 

“Caught your eye then?” Sebastian asks. Moriarty lets out a crack of laughter and nods. 

“Don’t get too cocky soldier. Just because you’re a good shot doesn’t mean you get off scott free.” 

Ah, so it is an interrogation then.

“Why were you in that warehouse?” Moriarty is still casual in tone, but the whole room shifts around Sebastian. Moriarty’s men focus in, they’re all suddenly very ready for something. 

Sebastian shrugs.

“I was in the neighborhood.” 

Moriarty clicks his fingers, one of the men steps forward. 

“I considered just water-boarding you,” Moriarty explains. “But that’s so very predictable don’t you think? Oh the big bad crime lord is going to make you very wet until you give him all your secrets. I thought I’d have to get a little creative, get you to tell me everything, thought I might just torture you for fun to start with, but then I realised, oh wait, I took another man and he’s far more likely to spill the beans than a man who used to be in the army and is trained for these sorts of things.” 

He nods once at the man and the man disappears behind Sebastian. The only reason Sebastian relaxes at all is because the footsteps continue well past him and into a different room. 

“If you’re planning on interrogating somebody else in front of me to get me to talk it won’t work.” He offers blandly. “I’m not about to feel compassion for somebody you just said would spill all the information you wanted.”

“Oh no nothing like that, I know you don’t have any pressure points like that. I already interrogated the man. He said you’re ‘some freelancer just there to get paid.’ I checked that extensively, wanted to make sure you didn’t have any ties with the Arton family.” Moriarty all but sings. 

“None.” Sebastian offers. “I’m a freelancer, that’s not private information.”

“No, you’re right it’s not.” Moriarty agrees. “I got your check, nice little sum. Noticed you charge me more though.” 

“You have me do more complicated work. The Arton family just want somebody unaffiliated to pull the trigger.” 

“Boring work.” 

“Yeah.” 

“How would you like not boring work?” 

Sebastian frowns, and glances around the room. 

“I’m not really dressed for a job interview.” He gestures with his head to his nakedness. “Is that going to have an effect on my score?” 

“Might have a positive effect.” Moriarty shrugs. 

“Is that why you didn’t let me die on the floor? Wanted to offer me a job.” He asks hesitantly. He doesn’t want to presume anything, their rumours about what Moriarty does to people he considers idiots. 

“Amongst other reasons.” They’re apparently back to the whole speed date option. 

Sebastian shrugs, not sure he has any other option but to accept. 

“Where do I sign?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not all that jazzed about this one, a chaotic day and no inspiration made me take an alternate route to what I wanted to write, but hey at least I'm still on track ヽ(~ ～~ )ノ


	7. Ashes and Soot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Powers manifest in certain people during all sorts of different situations, both Jim and Sebastian have their own gifts.

The building in front of them both burnt with an unnatural fever, flames more aggressive than they ought to be as they danced as if to a song that nobody could hear. Sebastian often wondered if Jim could hear that song, if he were the composer even; arms stretched out wide and head thrown back, swaying along to some melodic tune known only to him. 

Sebastian wondered too just what had given Jim his abilities, what terrible thing must have happened in his past to create such a gift. 

Those with powers sat somewhere between uncommon and rare, nobody quite sure what it was that caused such powers to manifest in people other than some strong emotional response to an event in their lives. For some it was supposedly a first kiss or love, some pure and gentle infatuation that manifested into something more physical, something that could be wielded. For others it was grief, heavy and slowing like tar from their fingers called out into the world. Some gained massive amounts of strength, others like Sebastian had faced death and defeated it permanently. 

But never had Sebastian seen something like what Jim had. 

There were those of them that had powers born of some sort of rage, but explosive as rage was so too was their power. They often went out with their powers, manifesting into one chaotic moment before extinguishing moments later to leave only the damaged aftermath. Rage was not an emotion easy to hold onto, people could resent and hate, but pure rage, that uncontrollable force that couldn’t be reasoned with was often so quick in its appearance that when it manifested in people it swallowed everything up and then left. 

Jim had told Sebastian once that it was a terrible feeling, that it was the only thing he could really feel anymore. He was numb to the world except for those moments of ecstasy where he poured out his heart and soul and erupted earth underneath him. 

“I refused to die.” He had explained. “I wouldn’t let them destroy me, I wouldn’t let them be the end of who I was going to be.” 

Jim has never said it outwardly, but Sebastian is sure that by ‘them’ Jim means his parents. Sebastian knows enough of when Jim’s powers manifested to know that he was young, and though he would never admit it he’s snooped for long enough to find records of a house fire in a small Irish village that was a suspected manifestation. The whole family gone, turned to nothing by ash, swallowed up by poor circumstance and a defeated little boy who saw no other choice. 

The fire continues to dance as it swallows everything whole, it moves with Jim, sways as he sways open arms. They’re far enough back that they’re safe from the flames but the heat that comes from the fire is still uncomfortable. In the distance sirens wail, they can’t stay for much longer. The police know that the spate of fires that have taken over London lately are likely due to manifestations and there’s been talk all over the news that perhaps it isn’t a series of manifestations all happening within the month but one person behind the attacks. 

If they find Jim they’ll kill him. Sebastian can only take so many bullets before he can’t physically stand anymore. He might be invincible but his body still needs time to deal with all those holes. 

“We should go.” Sebastian instructs though he loathes the idea of pulling Jim away from his moment of euphoria. “Before the police arrive.” 

“It’s snowing, look.” Jim opens his eyes and Sebastian looks up in toe. Ash falls from the sky like snow above them slowly drifting down. “We should make snow angels.” 

“We should leave.” Sebastian shakes his head. “We’ve talked about this.” 

“Just a moment longer.” Jim insists. Sebastian can’t really refuse him, he is the one in charge after all. “Just let me feel a little longer.” 

There had been people in that building, Sebastian never bothered to ask what they had done. He’d just driven Jim there like a good soldier and stood outside with him in the cold while he prepared. Jim liked the theatrics, he had called somebody in the building, talked nonsense for about half an hour with him before he’d finally hung up the phone. 

Sebastian wondered if he should have asked who was in the building. Jim had been making more and more excuses to burn buildings down as of late, and though he had a lot of enemies Sebastian wasn’t sure that Jim was just disposing of those in his way. 

When Jim finally stops they’re both covered in a light layer of ash. Sebastian smiles at the man across from him and wipes his face clear of some of it though it’s mostly ineffectual, just spreading the ash about his face. 

“Home then?” He asks. 

“Mn, yes I think so.” 

Jim is quiet as they travel home, but that’s not out of the ordinary for him. Sebastian lets them sit in comfortable silence and taps his fingers to the beat of the Christmas carol on the radio. 

As they get home Sebastian takes pause, frowning at the unfamiliar car parked next to the spot that he normally uses. He used to have a motorbike there but wrecked it not long ago, it’d taken him a while to heal up from that one, and Sebastian had decided that it wasn’t worth trying to see how fast he could weave through traffic to go behind that kind of pain again. The spot is empty only because Sebastian hasn’t had time to replace the bike and belongs to Jim, there’s a little plate on the wall that says as much.

“Looks like we have guests.” Jim hums, eyes trained on the car.

“Somebody you know?” 

“Not really. I’d wager somebody after information. You know how the Government is. Can’t work out their own answers so they send one of their little agents down to ask the bad guys. I wonder how much they’ll pay for whatever it is they’re after.” 

“Think they’re hear to ask about the fires?” Sebastian asks worriedly. 

“Maybe. There’s a few other things they’ve been trying to stick their noses in at the moment. Don’t take whoever is upstairs for face value, they often hire people who can change their appearance, they make good spies.” 

“Should I be ready to shoot?” Sebastian reaches over Jim to the glove compartment but Jim stays his hand.

“I don’t think so. They’ll want information more than they’ll want either of us. We’re going to have to move again though, I hate it when they get our address.” 

Jim is apparently more put out by that because it’s what he discusses most of the way up. Sebastian listens half heartedly, he’s much more focused on the building now, listening out for anybody who might be approaching. Just because Jim’s sure that they aren’t in any danger doesn’t mean Sebastian can just easily relax. It’s him job to keep Jim safe, he can’t afford to take the man for his word when they don’t really know who they’re about to run into. 

The house is dark, and as the two of them enter, Sebastian before Jim, it looks mostly undisturbed. The lock hasn’t been broken and the alarm system hasn’t been triggered, and for a moment as he checks over all their systems Sebastian wonders if their government man is going to arrive after them. 

They aren’t so lucky as that however. 

Jim saunters into the lounge and turns on the light with a drawled voice command before stopping dead in his tracks. Sebastian has only just rounded the corner, he’s midway through chastising Jim for walking off ahead of him while he was checking their systems when he spots the other man in the house, an older gentleman that looks eerily like Jim if he had graying hair and hadn’t taken such good care of himself. 

“Been lighting fires, Jimmy?” The man croons. “What should I expect from a boy like you?” 

Jim’s hands ball up into fists. 

Sebastian barely has a moment to react as he runs forward to try and get to him. 

“Jim no!” 

The experts always suggest that if you have a more destructive power you try and avoid situations that closely mimic those that caused your manifestation. If you gained something during a fight don’t become a boxer and all that. Sebastian is sure that Jim knows his real father is dead, but that much anger can’t be easy to rationalize, that much rage just can’t be controlled. This time however Jim doesn’t have the right mind to get out and away, whatever it is that sparks that surge of power out of him also stops him from thinking to even move. 

Sebastian isn’t sure he can save Jim, but he damn well knows he’s going to try. They’re in a penthouse over London, and Sebastian’s taken worse, he can take the brunt of the fire for Jim, he just hopes that the building stays in tact enough that it doesn’t send them all crashing down. 

The fire starts around the man masquerading as Jim’s father. It wraps around him, up around his face and then spreads rapidly outward. The fire hits Jim just as Sebastian does, but he’s able to whip the two of them around, forcing Jim to the ground underneath him, tugging wiry limbs in and pinning Jim to the ground. 

“Jim stop it!” He shouts as he pulls Jim’s head in close to try and protect him. “It’s not him!” 

Jim’s unresponsive, his whole body is still tightly coiled and Sebastian can feel the man convulsing underneath him. He needs to drag them both away from the fire, but is worried that if he removes Jim he’ll just be dragging the fire down behind them. 

“Please Jim, focus on me. Don’t you dare go out like this!” He can barely hear the shout of his own voice over the roar of the fire as he tries to haul Jim and he towards the door on the ground while still keeping Jim safe underneath him. He’ll survive the fire, it’s what Sebastian does, but Jim won’t. Jim will go out like a flame if he doesn’t get himself under control. 

Worse though is that Sebastian knows that the fire department will already be hard pressed with the massive fire Jim had lit earlier. They’re at the top of a burning tower with very few options. 

He drags them both towards the door, he ignores the heat of the door handle and the way that it sears his flesh to it as he turns the knob to try and get them back out. The fire chases them like an angry dog and already Sebastian feels raw. 

“Jim come-on, you can stop now.” He pleads. “Jim you aren’t going to get out of this alive unless you stop spreading the fire, just let it go. You stubborn little bastard, just put the flames out!” 

“Let me go!” Jim shouts suddenly, he thrashes and behind him Sebastian can feel the physical wall of fire shift with Jim. “Put me down!” 

“Jim!” Sebastian tries, sterner. “Not until you stop! You’re going to get yourself killed.” Jim grabs Sebastian by the lapels of his jacket, he fists tightly onto them and Sebastian feels as if he’s roasting in an oven. He gets them out the door and shuts the door though he knows it won’t be long until the flames get through it. 

In a last ditch effort, Sebastian rears back against Jim and brings his fist into his face. 

The fire doesn’t stop behind them, but at least now it’s not being propelled forward by some supernatural force. He’s barely conscious, though by that he supposes he’s doing better than Jim, but Sebastian knows that he can’t stop and let his body recover. It won’t take the fire long to spread even if Jim is no longer pushing it forward. He tries to stand but the pain that shoots through his body pulls his forcibly back to his knees, crumbling just beside Jim sure not to crush him now that he’s not using himself as a meat-shield. 

Jim had known that the man in front of him wasn’t really his father and yet still had such a violent reaction. 

Something tells Sebastian that the man was a plant. A pawn in a bigger mans game. 

If it turns out that Mycroft Holmes is behind this Sebastian will kill the man himself and take whatever punishment Jim decides for him. 

Sebastian struggles but does get himself up on the second attempt, he hauls Jim over his shoulder with a sharp cry. His jacket did well to protect him but the extra weight presses down on less lucky parts of his body. 

He has to get Jim out. 

Sebastian drags them both down the fire exit with slow weak steps, he forces himself to continue walking until he gets to the car and it’s only then that he realises he doesn’t have the keys. He’s a goddamn idiot. Setting Jim down carefully, Sebastian smashes the drivers side window, unlocks his car, and carefully buckles Jim into the back seat. Jim will wake up and have an absolute fit about being buckled in the back like a child, but Sebastian doesn’t think he can make it all around the car to put Jim in the passenger side right this second. 

He hot-wires the car and phones one of their contacts to have a safe-house outside of London ready for their arrival in an hour. He’s going to need a solid couple of days to heal after this, and Jim better bloody give him a good raise for all the effort he’s gone to. 

Once they’re on the highway Sebastian is feeling better, but he still presses down on the gas to try and get there a little faster. He doesn’t trust himself to stay conscious for long enough, knows that each minute that passes is a danger, his body will want to shut down soon and heal. 

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice the car racing up behind him. 

They’re hit with such a force that Sebastian doesn’t have a hope of correcting them and the car launches violently off the road, it rolls once, twice, three times, and then Sebastian loses count as he tries to protect his face the best he can from the shattered glass. The crash is enough to wake Jim up who lets out surprised cuss as they finally come to a stop in a meadow off the highway, smoke steadily rising from the car. 

“What the fuck?” Jim hisses. Sebastian looks behind him to Jim who looks worse for wear though nowhere near as mad as he had before. It doesn’t look like he’s about to have another blowout which is something, Sebastian supposes, though he’s got to be quick or it won’t matter what Jim’s mood is the car will explode of its own cause. He reaches for his seat-buckle only to find it stuck. He’s going to need the knife out of the glove box. 

“Get yourself out boss, I’ll just be a moment.” Jim grunts in response and undoes his own buckle, crawling out over glass and grass to stand up. 

A moment later there’s a gunshot and Jim’s body crumbles to the ground. His expression is shocked, cuts from glass on his face and a bullet wound in his forehead. 

They say that manifestations came from strong emotional responses to a situation. 

Something hot and violent coils in Sebastian’s chest. The last thing he sees is fire engulf the car.


	8. Warm Bath

Jim Moriarty has always known that it will be a long climb to the top for him. He knew from the moment he left Ireland, from the moment he erased his past and traveled to London that he would have to work hard to get to where he wanted to be. He’s never been under the illusion that life would just hand him all the answers, that everything would play out like a hallmark movie where he’s rescued from the streets by a handsome stranger with some dark secret that the two of them would overcome together and then live happily ever after. It’s because of that steadfast belief perhaps that when he meets Sebastian Moran for the first time he brushes the man off as just another potential employee to help build his empire with. 

Sebastian Moran is only a couple of years older than him but just like Jim has proven his worth within his field. While Jim has been slowly amassing a contact list that will one day rival even the biggest of the crime families in London Sebastian Moran has shown his skill as a more than capable hit-man. It has taken time for Jim to track the man down and then to organise a meeting, Moran smart enough not to just accept the offer for coffee and a chat from just anyone. Jim has spent the last four months professionally wooing Sebastian with hits that test his limits and keep him interested for favours and tip offs in lieu of his normal rate. Jim can’t afford Sebastian yet, he’s not set up enough to be able to pay the best sniper this side of the world to kill for him but it will come soon. He just needs to snag Sebastian for his own, needs to enter a contract with the man to have exclusive rights to his work. 

Then Jim can charge others for Sebastian’s skill set. Then he can start to really bring money in, to build himself up. Maybe even get a proper office instead of flitting about from restaurant to restaurant any time he needs to meet anybody particularly important. Anyone looking in would assume that Jim was just treating his clients well, none of them knew that the reason he didn’t conduct office meetings was because his ‘office’ of sorts was currently an apartment that leaked with a door that didn’t lock properly if you didn’t barricade it. 

That’ll all change soon though, once he’s got Sebastian. 

“Nice place you picked.” Sebastian hums as he sits down at the restaurant Jim’s picked for this particular engagement. “Always liked a good lobster, they’ve got the best in London here.” 

“I know.” Jim replies smug. “I did my research.” Sebastian nods at that and gives a small shrug. His arms are crossed and he’s leaning back comfortable in his chair. 

“Didn’t expect you to be so young.” 

“I’m not that much younger than you.” 

“You look a lot younger, pretty small for somebody our age.” Sebastian gives a toothy grin, he’s deliberately poking at Jim to get a reaction. Jim just raises an eyebrow at him. 

“That’s to my advantage then, isn’t it?” He knows he’s small, but a lifetime of malnourishment tends to do that to people. “If I look like a teenager people assume I’m not Moriarty.” 

“Suppose that’s true. You’re still good to look at at least, not some old bastard trying to hire me.” Sebastian’s eyes are still running up and down Jim’s body, it makes him want to take the knife off the table and stab the man, but there’s also something appreciative in that gaze. Jim doesn’t mind that all that much, though he’s not going to drop his pants just because there’s the opportunity to. His work is more important to him. 

“Eyes up here.” Jim clicks his fingers to bring Sebastian’s attention back to him. “I’m here for business, not for any of that.” 

“Right, dunno why you didn’t have this meeting in an office, seems a better place to offer me a contract, don’t you think?” There’s a look in Sebastian’s eye that mirrors that smug look Jim had before. “Ah wait, you don’t have an office do you?” 

Jim blinks slowly, unaffected. 

“Dingy little flat you got though, did you climb out your window to keep the door barred properly? You know somebody my size can push that table right out of the way of the door yeah?” 

“You looked me up, I’m impressed that you found where I live, but it doesn’t mean all that much to me that you went snooping through my things.” Jim replies. “Not everybody has a daddy with an estate.” 

Sebastian stiffens a little before he laughs, nodding. 

“Yeah alright that’s fair. To be honest though I didn’t find much on you. You’re pretty hard to track too, no real pattern to your day. Makes it hard for a hit-man, not that I’m trying to kill you. Just a good idea I suppose, keeping your movements as sporadic as they are.” 

“Thank you then.” Jim doesn’t move about ‘sporadically’ on purpose, but he’ll certainly keep that in mind from now on. It’s good to know that he’s been accidentally keeping himself safe. “You aren’t easy to find yourself, though information about your life beforehand is very easy to come by, lot’s of pressure points, easy to attack.” 

“Gee thanks.” Sebastian says dryly, though he doesn’t appear terribly offended. “I compliment you and you return the favour by saying I’d be easy to blackmail. Real good way to try and hire employees there Moriarty.” 

“You’re still interested.” Jim can see it in Sebastian’s eyes, he’s enjoying himself. He’s always enjoyed the opportunities Jim’s given him. A little insult isn’t going to chase him away. 

“Yeah, suppose.” Sebastian needs to work on his vocabulary, but Jim can let that slide for now. 

“Well then, shall we talk terms?” 

Six months later they’re not ‘dating’ but the two of them have certainly become inseparable. Jim uses Sebastian for more than just sharpshooting, then man acts as Jim’s body guard when he’s not on a rooftop, and Jim keeps his bed warm at night. It’s almost like a hallmark movie, only they’re both criminals and their sex isn’t really friendly for those fade to black soft little moments that are offered in the movies. Currently, Jim is enjoying downtime in Sebastian’s bathtub. He hasn’t been back to his own apartment in months, and while Jim’s aware that everything he has with Sebastian could easily vanish with a moments notice he’s considered stopping rent payments for it. 

The only thing that’s stopped him is the voice in the back of his head reminding him that everything tends to fall apart around him; he isn’t good with people because he treats them like toys and he’s got a horrible habit of breaking all his toys. 

Sebastian hasn’t broken yet, but Jim’s sure it’s only a matter of time. 

Buried under a wall of bubbles and enjoying the steam of the bath, Jim tries not to think about that. He’s allowed to enjoy the small normality of living with somebody else while it lasts. If he can enjoy murder and blackmail, he can enjoy having somebody around each day. 

He’ll learn to relax eventually, when the two of them live in a penthouse that Jim owns, atop a building that Jim also owns. He’ll look back and think of what a fool he was to be so caught up in the past that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. 

Jim doesn’t call it love, he never will, never wants to define it like that; he’s unsure he feels it like other people do, but he likes Sebastian, and he likes what they have together.


	9. Festive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's favourite time of year is the holiday season, mostly because it means an influx of work.

The holiday season always puts Jim in a good mood, he smiles more, laughs at Sebastian’s more dumb jokes, indulges in more sugar cookies than anybody ought to be able to consume, and decorates the flat head to toe in tinsel and lights, turning their otherwise normally plain apartment into some sort of Christmas wonderland with a different theme each year. Sebastian hadn’t understood why at first, Jim didn’t seem the type to get swept up in holidays, he certainly didn’t get so excited about Easter or Halloween, or any of the numerous holidays throughout the year, but come December the man was positively guilty. He wondered if the criminal mastermind had enjoyed the holidays as a child, if there was something buried deep in Jim’s past that he had actually enjoyed, if the lights and tinsel made some sort of impact because of that. 

As it turned out, there was a much more simple reason behind Jim’s love of Christmas. 

“It’s good for business, Bash.” He had once explained. “People always have so much they want done before the end of the year. Kill my wife. Kill my husband, frame my in-laws for tax evasion, stop the rival gang from selling cocaine so I can have the holiday monopoly, the list goes on; it’s fantastic.” 

Jim Moriarty is a businessman first and foremost, it really shouldn’t have surprised Sebastian that that extended into holiday cheer. 

Still, business or not Jim really does seem to enjoy the Christmas period. Maybe it is years of having more work than he could physically get to that made him so excited, but at least come December Sebastian knows he gets to see that smile on Jim’s face each morning when they got up to start their day. 

An abundance of criminal activity gives Jim Moriarty the festive spirit, who is Sebastian to complain about that. 

This years Christmas theme seemed to be blues. Jim has spent a good amount of time in between planning the raid of a warehouse and the murder of three key prominent members of a gang flicking through magazines and selecting just the right look for the flat. He’s ordered a large eight foot tree and decorated it so thickly with blues, coppers, and golds that the tree can’t be seen through the ribbon and baubles surrounding it and has spent more than a few hours making sure that it looks absolutely perfect. Sebastian suspects that Jim’s still not completely happy with it, but he knows that his consultant criminal will continue to work on it until he’s satisfied. 

The whole flat looks like that, blues and coppers and golds, colour coordinated and styled to perfection, Jim had even changed the pillows on the couch. There’s also an influx of glitter everywhere, shedding from various decorations that Jim insisted Sebastian help him place, and Jim has taken to playing Christmas carols instead of disco through their home. Somehow Sebastian find himself swept up in that festive spirit too. 

It has become tradition between the two of them to go out and enjoy the Christmas markets that are held every year. Jim dons a Santa hat still dressed impeccably from the head down, and Sebastian only somewhat reluctantly puts one on too, he has his gun tucked safely away under his leather jacket in case anything happens. Jim leaves his phone at home happy to just enjoy a night out with his partner. 

It is as normal as they get, shockingly normal as it is; Christmas time is the only real time where they act like ordinary people occasionally. Jim with all his work is in a good mood, and Sebastian who is just grateful that he isn’t trying to stop Jim from doing something ludicrous to starve off the boredom. 

“Are you going to be alright with the fireworks this year?” Jim has his eyes on box of glass baubles, turning his head only slightly to indicate that he is taking to Sebastian who shifts slightly at the question before giving a short nod. 

“Should be, yeah. I’ve been working on it, I think I’ll be alright.” 

Jim nods at his answer, pointing to one of the other boxes before pointing back to the one he’s been ogling for five minutes. 

“Which one do you like?” 

“They both look pretty similar to be to be honest. Suppose I like the copper over the gold, but they’d all match at home.” Sebastian offers unhelpfully. “Isn’t the tree full though? Don’t know where you’re going to squeeze those ones in boss.” 

“Oh they’ll fit, there’s plenty of room. There’s a spot just near the top that I couldn’t reach properly, it’s a little lacking.” Sebastian tries to recall any blank spot on the tree but can’t picture it. Everything had seemed pretty up to code to him. 

“I’ll help you put them up if you want, you know that right? Don’t have to climb a ladder just because you insist on having such a big tree.” Jim shoots him a glare before handing over the money to buy both boxes. Predictably, Sebastian is the one who had to carry the bag. 

“The tree was perfect, it was the only one I could have in the flat, anything else would have ruined the aesthetic of the whole room.” Jim explains as if it’s supposed to help Sebastian understand better why they need more baubles for the tree in the first place. “I won’t have an ugly tree in my home.” 

“Alright, yeah I got it.” Sebastian laughs. “I won’t ask anymore questions about the stuff you buy, I promise.” 

“Good.” Jim nods. “Because I’m going to buy a lot more. I hope your arms are ready for a workout, Sebastian.” 

Sebastian’s arms do get a workout, Jim wasn’t joking when he said that he was going to buy a lot more. Sebastian ends up with eight different bags loaded into his hands and tucked under his arms, doing his best to balance them so that nothing shatters. The crowd has gotten thicker and Sebastian isn’t exactly pleased that his hands are full; it makes keeping Jim safe more difficult, especially with the way that the man insists on weaving through the crowd to look at each stall. He keeps an eyes out for anybody that looks like they might be there to cause trouble, but for the most part the crowd is full of young families all eager to have a good time. 

Jim pulls him aside and out of the crowd into a line to get some hot coco, and Sebastian relaxes a little. At least in a line it’s a lot easier to see what’s going on, and he has the opportunity to rest the bags at his feet while they wait. Jim orders himself a drink, and buys a second for Sebastian and before long they’re searching for somewhere to sit. 

There’s never enough seating at these places, but they’re both happy to settle for part of a low wall under a tree that’s got almost as many lights in it as Jim’s tree at home. 

“If the crowd keeps getting bigger I’m going to have to start setting fires or something to discourage people turning up.” Jim hums into his cup, festive mittens keeping his hands warm for the most part. His nose has gone red from the cold and there’s a flush to his face, but he doesn’t seem that bothered by the cold so Sebastian doesn’t offer him his own scarf to go on top. A group of young men take part of the wall near them and Sebastian eyes them for a moment before Jim kicks him in the shins. 

“Stop worrying darling, you’re fussing and it’s ruining the mood.” He jokes playfully. 

“I’m just keeping you safe.” Jim rolls his eyes and returns to his coco. 

They get about halfway through their coco before the group of young men turn to them. One of them has a cigarette perched between a lopsided grin. 

“’Scuse me mate, you got a light?” Jim raises an eyebrow and looks over to Sebastian who begrudgingly pulls out his own packet, fishing the lighter out for the young man who thanks him profusely for it. 

“Always fuckin’ forget mine, ought to staple it to my hand I reckon.” 

“Yeah.” Sebastian deadpans, he’s not interested in making smalltalk with the man. As the kid goes to hand it back over, he drops it, swearing and ducking to pick it up but Sebastian holds out a hand, crouching down to get it. He hears Jim grunt as he bends down and assumes that the man is making fun of him for getting a little older. It isn’t until he stands up that he sees what’s happened. 

Jim is holding his coco away from him, half of it spilled down his front. There’s a knife in his torso, and one of the men that had taken a seat near them attached to the other end of the knife. 

Sebastian sees red. 

His first reaction is to grab the little bastard who had asked for a light by the throat but he misses and has him by the shirt instead. His other hand darts out just as quick and grabs the wrist of the man holding the knife to ensure that he doesn’t pull it out of Jim. He pulls the first one closer and grabs him by the neck, pressing down hard enough that he could just about crush it entirely. 

“You fuckers are going to tell me who you work for, or your lives are about to become a whole lot worse.” 

The man who has Sebastian’s hand around his neck can’t get a word out. He manages to uselessly open his mouth and drop his smoke which hits Sebastian’s shoe before rolling onto the ground but that’s about it. Sebastian doesn’t much feel like letting up, he turns to the other whose wrist he’s about to break and snarls waiting for an answer. 

“You boys are ruining my Christmas.” Jim laments from where he’s still half seated. His voice is strained, but both he and Sebastian know that as long as that knife is still in him he’s got a better chance of surviving. 

Sebastian squeezes the wrist of the man until he lets go, and Jim stumbles back several steps back onto the wall. The others that had been with the two have taken off which is a pity because Sebastian would love to do them all in right now, but two will have to do. 

“Bash darling the police are going to arrive soon, try and not kill them.” 

“We’ll tell them you’re Moriarty!” The one who can talk near shouts, “They’ll arrest you too if you don’t let us go!” 

“Me?” Jim’s not quite as mock shocked as he’d like, he’s in too much pain, but Sebastian can already see where this is going. “No, you’ve got me confused with somebody else. I’m just an actor out with my boyfriend for the evening. You stabbed somebody who reads children’s books for a living.” He grimaces slightly, hand twitching as he stops himself from instinctively pulling the knife out. 

“What’s going on here?” Sebastian doesn’t turn around, but he knows the authoritative voice of a cop anywhere. 

“I’ve been stabbed.” Jim explains plainly. “My boyfriend grabbed the ones responsible.” 

The police intervene, which is good because Sebastian’s nearly killed one of the men, and paramedics are quick on the scene to see to Jim. Like an absolute smug little bastard he asks for a lollipop from the paramedic once they’re done and loading him up to go to the hospital. 

“Don’t look so glum Tiger, I’m fine.” Jim assures. “Besides, now it just means we’ll have some real fun on Christmas.” 

“I’ll be sure to return their knife.” Sebastian nods. He’ll have to pay somebody at Scotland Yard to get the knife back, and he’ll have to buy a nice bit of ribbon and a bow, but it’ll be worth it. Jim always does enjoy getting to see Sebastian work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up actually looking up some Christmas trends for Jim's apartment, I took inspiration from this tree if anybody would like to see it c:   
> https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/christmas-tree-decor-1-1572897208.jpg?crop=0.874074074074074xw:1xh;center,top&resize=980:*


	10. Once A Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their anniversary is December 24th. Was December 24th   
> (angst)

December 24th is their anniversary. Was their anniversary. Past tense. As of about thirty seconds ago. 

It makes sense that Jim would wait until their fucking anniversary to end it, it’s on brand for the man to do something so cruel as that. Sebastian stares at him with a frown for several more long seconds as he feels the floor give out underneath him. If he weren’t sitting he might actually have fallen over. 

They sit across from one another in Jim’s office, Jim as unaffected as you might expect, Sebastian reeling from the words. 

“You want to break up?” He manages finally. “On our anniversary.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” Jim nods. He pulls paperwork in front of him, scans it before signing it. He’s working while they break up. Sebastian would laugh if he weren’t so hurt by it. Breakups are never easy, never clean, but this has to take the cake for the worst one he’s been in. 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” Jim shrugs. “I don’t love you. Never have. I think I was just chasing that ideal of a normal life.” 

“You don’t— We’ve been together eleven years and you’ve never loved me?” Sebastian’s voice raises half way through, he’s gone from upset to angry. “What the fuck do you mean you never loved me?” 

“I think that it’s self explanatory, Bash.” Jim gives him that look he always does when Sebastian does something he deems stupid. “I don’t love you. I do not hold affections for you, I am not romantically attracted to you.” He pauses a moment before giving a half shrug. “The sex is good I suppose. We can keep that up.” 

“Jesus fuck.” Sebastian shakes his head. “You think I’m going to want to have sex with you after this?” 

“Yes.” Jim’s right, of course, Sebastian will hold onto every moment he can still get with Jim. Jim might not love him, but Sebastian’s loved Jim long before they even began to date. His self destructive streak will make sure he still pines like an absolute fucking idiot, he’ll never let go of those feelings for Jim. It will kill him slowly, every touch, every smile, knowing that they mean nothing. 

“Why’d you drag it out so long then, if you didn’t love me?” Sebastian doesn’t want to know the answer, but he has to hear it. He feels like he’s going to be sick, like his lungs are filling up with water. 

“I wanted to feel something like ‘normal’ people do.” Jim replied. “I thought you could help me feel that.” 

Jim’s always struggled with emotions, he’s different, can’t quite get there. It’s frustrated him over the years and Sebastian’s always been there to help him through it. He thought he’d been helping but apparently not. It makes Sebastian feel worse, knowing that not only does Jim not love him, but he let Jim down, he couldn’t help him. 

“It’s better for you, you should be happy.” Jim supplies. He moves onto more paperwork. 

“Happy?” Sebastian shakes his head, “How the fuck is this supposed to make me happy?” 

“Well now you can have a relationship with somebody who returns your feelings.” Jim makes it sound so simple, like he’s being fired, not broken up with. “You’re free to pursue other people, though of course I’ll need to do a full background check on them, can’t have you dating a spy by mistake.” 

Sebastian runs a hand through his hair and hangs his head. 

“It’s our fucking anniversary, Jim.” 

“Was, past tense.” 

“Right. Was.” Sebastian pushes himself to stand, forcing the action. “If that’s all I’ve got work to do.” 

“Mn, that’s all.” Jim nods. He’s not even looking at Sebastian, it’s as if he’s not there at all. 

Sebastian leaves and slams the door behind him. The whole wall shakes behind him as he turns down the hall and leaves. He wants a drink, but he’s been trying to stop that, trying to get better for Jim. It’s ironic that he wants to keep going with that given that Jim doesn’t give a fuck. 

The small box in his jacket burns a hole in his chest. He takes it out and throws it as hard as he can back down the hall. It bounces and then tumbles away. Sebastian stares at it before moving back to pick it up, opening the box to look at the ring. A shuddered breath escapes him as he tucks it back into his pocket. Hopefully he’ll be able to get a return on it. 

Alone in his office Jim looks down at his paperwork. One more step towards Reichenbach, arguably the hardest step. Sebastian might hate him for a long time, but at least if he hates Jim it’ll be easier on him. 

It’s the least he can do to protect the man he loves.


	11. Chimney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat bugler Jim meets randy, light sleeper Sebastian Moran

Sebastian’s a light sleeper, he always has been. Unlike Severin who could and has slept through a literal bomb going off, Sebastian wakes at most things. It’s a right pain most of the time, but something about whatever sound woke him up tonight puts him into alert mode straight away. He strains listening out and even listening for something Sebastian almost misses it. There’s somebody in the house and it sounds like they’re in his fathers study, or at least that’s where it sounds like the noise is coming from. 

Sebastian carefully steps out of his bed and creeps down the hall. Even as he gets closer the sounds are quiet, almost impossible to hear; whoever has broken into their house knows what they’re doing which means that they’re also probably prepared for what happens if somebody finds them. Sebastian should go and get help, or call the police, but he’s never been all that good at staying away from danger. It’s why he plans to run off and join the army, why he’s gotten into so many fights in the past, why he keeps getting into trouble now even though there’s been threats to kick him out of University. 

He reaches the door to his fathers study and that hot rush of adrenaline runs through him. He turns the knob slowly and cracks the door just wide enough to look in. 

There’s the figure of a man, sleight and currently with his upper half in the unused fireplace that occupies the far wall of the study. The iron grate that usually covers the fireplace has been removed and behind the man is a small bag with several tools sitting beside it, and although he can’t see what’s inside the bag it already looks very full. Whoever this man is, he’s either visited more houses than the Moran estate tonight, or he’s been quiet enough to sneak around thus far without being detected. 

Sebastian isn’t that bothered by the idea of his parents being robbed, he welcomes the idea, but he knows too that he’s still going to confront the thief. He wants to see what will happen, hopes for a fight, something to break up the week he’s been having. He steps into the room just as the man jimmies himself in further, pressing up with one leg on the wall of the fireplace to get a better reach. Either he’s found something up there or he’s managed to get stuck. Sebastian waits all the same, and as the man pulls himself back out of the chimney now covered in a mixture of cobwebs, dust, and old soot that hasn’t ever been cleaned out, he has a large envelope in one hand. 

The man turns to put it in his bag but freezes when he sees Sebastian. 

He looks young, maybe a little younger than Sebastian, though it’s hard to tell with how dirty he’s managed to get, his upper half especially. Sebastian flashes him a grin and a short wave before gesturing for the man to be quiet. The man seems fairly insulted by that but doesn’t say anything, taking a look inside the envelope before taking the few short steps to put it into his bag with everything else, packing away his things as he does. The fact that he’s not at all bothered sends alarm bells through Sebastian, but there doesn’t appear to be any gun, and the man doesn’t pull a knife out to threaten him either. 

“You were a little noisy.” Sebastian whispers, pointing to the grate that’s sitting leaning against the wall. 

“I was not.” The man grumbles back just as quietly. He pulls the bag onto his shoulders, doesn’t move any closer. 

“Loud enough to wake me up.” Sebastian knows that it’s an unfair thing to say, but given that his family is being robbed, being fair doesn’t seem all that important. The man continues to glare at him and shakes his head.

“Do you want it all back?” 

“Are you going to give it back?” 

“No.” 

The answer is final, and Sebastian doubts even threat of the police would get the man to drop his bag. He’s wearing gloves and taken care in his theft, there wouldn’t be much to find even if Sebastian did call the police, which he won’t. He can’t even see the mans face properly, it’s smudged with soot and dust and the light is too poor to see across the room properly. All he knows is that he’s Irish.

“No point in asking then, is there?” He hums. The man snorts, and holds the straps of his backpack tight.

“I thought you might have a gun.” Sebastian says after several moments of the two of them staring at each other. Neither one of them has moved, though not from any fear. “Or a knife.” 

“I passed a safe I assume had hunting rifles in it given all the game on the walls. I assumed anybody who found me would have a gun also.” The man replies, neither confirming nor denying if he had one at all. 

“My father might have come with one. He wouldn’t have stopped to ask questions though.” Sebastian supplies. The man gives him an odd look that Sebastian isn’t quite sure what it’s meant to be before he nods. 

“But you wanted something exciting. You want me to have a gun on me, don’t you?” He hums, amused. “You wanted something exciting, something dangerous, it didn’t have to be a robbery though did it? You would have taken anything, probably would have taken the risk at finding your father in here even though that would cause trouble too. You need a thrill to chase away all those awful thoughts.” 

Sebastian feels as if the man is looking straight through him, somehow pulling him apart to put on display.

“I can be very thrilling if you want.” The man offers. He pauses and removes his backpack. “One second.” 

When the man next stands up there’s a gun in his hand trained on Sebastian. 

“Oh.” Sebastian mumbles. That heat is back, his mouth has gone completely dry. He should be scared, why doesn’t this shit ever properly scare him? Why does it always feel like excitement? 

“Oh.” The man nods. He picks his bag up but doesn’t put it back on his shoulders, walking steadily towards Sebastian the gun always on him. 

“Which one are you?” The man asks, barely inches from Sebastian. The gun is pressed tight into his chest, Sebastian’s heart hammers against it so violently he’s worried he’s going to cause the gun to go off. 

“What?” He asks dumbly. 

“Which Moran.” The man clarifies. “Which one are you?” 

“Uh- Sebastian.” Sebastian wants to reach out and touch the man, he’s too unbelievably horny for this shit. 

“Sebastian.” His name sounds so different on the mans lips, Sebastian instantly wants to hear it again. “Nice to meet you, Sebastian.” 

God, this is going to go horribly wrong for him, he just knows it. 

“Nice to meet you too. Do I get your name?”

“Were you the one involved in that fight on campus last week? I heard you almost were expelled.” The man completely ignores Sebastian’s question and suddenly fear takes over that horny little voice in the forefront of his mind. 

“What?” God, oh shit, fucking dammit does this man go to Eton? Is that how he found the Estate? The man groans and rolls his eyes at Sebastian’s question and jabs the gun into Sebastian’s chest a little harder. 

“Uh, yeah that was me.” He manages. “How’d you know that?” 

“You’ve got a reputation.” The man shrugs. “A reputation I happen to like. Of course, it did put you on my radar and now I’m robbing you, but there’s no hard feelings there right?” 

“Not really.” Sebastian admits. “I don’t give a shit if you steal their jewels.” 

“And you don’t give a shit then if I just walk out of this room and leave?” The man asks. 

“Well, I might miss you if you go.” Horny Sebastian is apparently back, that didn’t take long. He chastises himself for the comment but the man seems mostly amused by it. 

“Don’t worry Sebastian Moran, I’ll come back.” He promises. “I’ll have to collect my gun, silly thing I am, left it here.” He sets the gun down on the desk, with an exaggerated fake grimace, shaking his head. “Absolute scatter brain I am, thank you for taking such good care of it until I came back.” 

The man turns towards the door, pulls his backpack on, and proves that he just knows Sebastian isn’t going to stop him by turning his back on Sebastian to leave. 

“Toodle-do,” He waves, sparing only a glance over his shoulder to look over Sebastian appraisingly. “I’ll get your number and text you in a week, don’t cause too much trouble while you’re waiting for me.” 

Sebastian doesn’t know how he’s going to survive a week thinking about the man, but one thing is for sure, he’s not going to tell a soul that he woke up and caught somebody halfway up the chimney, not when keeping quiet promises so much.


	12. Bah Humbug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: homophobic language, suicidal themes, angst, domestic abuse

The door to the bathroom slams and shakes the surrounding wall. Sebastian hears the sound of the lock and takes that as Jim not wanting him to follow after him. He doesn’t want to anyway, they’re both tight with anger, drove home in silence after scathing words outside the warehouse that they’d met the client in. The shower starts moments later and Sebastian is left to pace the lounge while he waits for the luxury of a shower. They both ended up covered in blood, they’re both injured though Sebastian doesn’t know to what extent Jim himself has been hurt. 

It was an awful fucking mess, a terrible affair, and it’s put them both in a dangerous mood. 

The shower stops and Jim leaves the bathroom, he slams the door shut behind him and stalks to their bedroom to get changed. He doesn’t so much as give Sebastian a look instead completely ignoring him. He’ll talk eventually, or shout, Jim can never resist the urge, he’s always got to open that big fucking mouth of his and say something. 

Sebastian stops his pacing and heads to the bathroom. When he turns the knob he realises that the doors locked. Jim’s locked it from the fucking inside and slammed it shut, he’s keeping Sebastian out of the bathroom deliberately. 

“Oh real fucking cute!” Sebastian shouts banging on the door. He’ll kick it down if he has to. “You fucking arsehole, feel good for that do you?” 

“Did you feel good shooting up half my goddamn meeting?” Jim yells storming back out. He’s dressed, though rumpled, he rolls his sleeves up as he comes back out of the bathroom at a dangerous speed. “Was it cute of you to ruin negotiations like that?” 

“They drew a fucking gun!” Sebastian shouts back, “They were going to shoot you!” 

“They were not! It was an intimidation tactic you idiot, I have you do it all the time!” Jim shoves Sebastian roughly, and though he’s a small man there’s enough force behind it to push Sebastian into the locked bathroom door. Sebastian snarls and reaches out for Jim, he grabs the collar of Jim’s shirt and forces him back into the opposite wall. 

“Don’t you dare,” He spits, “You know where that was going!” Jim kicks him square in the knee but Sebastian holds on. He gets another kick for his efforts. 

“You’ve gone soft.” Jim hissed, fingers tight in Sebastian’s wrists, pinching and scratching, trying to claw his way out of the hold. “You’re useless to me soft.” 

“I have not. I did what I would have any other time. There was a gun, I reacted how I am paid to.” 

“You reacted because you were afraid your little crush was going to get hurt!” Jim laughs back, the words cruel and uncaring. It bites deep inside Sebastian and hurts far more than that little kick of Jim’s could have. “Did you think if you saved me you might get to win me over?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Oh you’d love that.” Jim drawls. He kicks Sebastian again and this time Sebastian does let him go, he needs to separate himself from Jim, storms back into the lounge.

“That’s right, Colonel, run away from it all. Can’t let anybody know you’re one of the gays.” Jim is following him, he’s purposefully hurting Sebastian now that he’s found his weapon of choice. 

“Just fuck off Jim!” 

“Oh now you want your space. You’ll smother me at work but at home I’ve got to leave you alone.” 

They hold each other there on the couch sometimes, wrapped up in the blanket that’s draped over the back, tangled in each others arms. Sebastian stares at the blanket and tries to think of reasons he should stay, tries to think of reasons why he shouldn’t just strangle Moriarty and hand in his resignation there. 

Number one, Jim’s wicked sense of humour, his wit, that delighted little laugh of his. 

“Just leave me the fuck alone and stop trying to get a rise out of me.” He spits. Jim laughs and Sebastian can feel the love for that sound dying in the back of his mind. Jim’s as cruel to him as he is any other one of his little games. It makes Sebastian feel small, when’s the last time he felt like he was an equal in their relationship? 

“I should fire you for that fuck up,” Jim continues, paying no mind to Sebastian. Number two, Sebastian thinks, what’s number two? His eyes, Sebastian loves Jim’s eyes, they’re so full of emotion, so easy to get lost in. Jim won’t fire him, he’s too important. Sebastian repeats it in his head again and again, staring at their over the top Christmas tree. 

“You’re easy to replace, it isn’t as if there aren’t other snipers out there, and people are very quick learners, what you do isn’t special, you aren’t special Sebastian Moran.” 

Jim’s never really been the same since he shot himself. Lucky to fucking survive but at what cost, Sebastian’s sure it sent the man mad, that it killed whatever good there was in Jim. 

“You don’t even care do you? You know I’m right. “Jim continues. “Admit you fucked up, Moran, admit it, you killed all those people for nothing, you’re just hot for teacher, just wanted to impress me so I’d like you. Pulling on my pigtails thinking I’d want you?” 

“Shut up!” Sebastian shouts as he turns back around. He desperately wants to see something in Jim’s eyes, anything, some spark that means he’s still got a place there, but he knows he doesn’t. Hasn’t for a long time now. “Just shut the fuck up you dumb little Irish prick!” He takes several steps backwards and even Jim with all his delight in their argument knows to step away, backing up towards the couch, rounding it so that they’ve changed positions, Jim by the tree and Sebastian on the opposite side trying to find reasons not to strangle the man. 

Three, Sebastian loves Jim’s brilliant mind. Loved his mind, it’s nothing but cruel now, he needs something else. All he can see is red, wants to launch himself at Jim and put a stop to it. 

They never fought like this in the beginning. Fought, sure, but not like this. 

Four— where’s the forth point? 

One of Jim’s prized baubles strikes Sebastian in the face. As he snaps back to attention Jim’s already launched another. He dodges it barely as more come his way. 

“Don’t ignore me!” Jim shouts. He’s all red in the face, there’s frustration and anger written all over it. “Don’t you dare ignore me Sebastian!” He’s struck by another bauble and it slices against his face as it shatters, creating yet more wounds inflicted by Jim Moriarty.

“God Jesus fuck I wish you had have died on that roof!” The words slip out before he’s even had a chance not to say them. Jim falters and stops mid launch, the bauble lands lamely between them, broken in pieces on the hardwood floors. 

“What?” He says quietly. 

“I wish you had have died then.” Sebastian doubles down, he’s too angry not to say it. “You haven’t been the same, you’re always like this, always taking things out on me. He had a fucking gun, Jim, I’ve done this for years, he was going to pull the trigger and just because you’re too stupid now to see it doesn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen.” 

“You wish I died?” Jim is tight, barely moving. He always moves, the last time Sebastian had seen Jim still had been in the weeks after the man had shot himself. He’d considered strangling him then to. Jim laughs, and it’s that delighted sound Sebastian has missed so much, but there’s also something incredibly sad about it too. 

“If you wish I had have died imagine how I must feel.” He frames it like a joke, like it’s some sort of punchline but all it does is devastate Sebastian. 

“I broke myself on that roof chasing after Sherlock Holmes of all people. How do you think I feel still standing.” 

“Jim—” 

“Oh shut up!” Jim cuts him off. “Don’t talk to me, don’t breathe near me, don’t look at me.” He looks around at his ruined tree and the mess he’s made and runs a hand through dark hair, fingers lingering on the back of his head. He’d done the same thing just before the gun had been pulled, Sebastian realised. Maybe Jim had known what was coming after all. He’s been taking increasingly more dangerous work as of late. 

Jim’s not mad because Sebastian misread the situation, he’s mad because Sebastian was right about what was about to happen. 

Jim turns violently and grabs the tree, hauling it down, sending baubles crashing and shattering all around him. He walks off towards his office and locks himself away in there. 

They used to love Christmas before Sherlock. Sebastian will never forgive the man for what he did to Jim, and never forgive himself for not protecting Jim from that man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write about a mall elf, but this came to me instead


	13. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13\. Family: Sebastian takes Jim home for Christmas, it doesn't go well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Heavily Implied homophobia

It has taken a lot of convincing and many promises to get Jim to come to Christmas dinner at the Moran estate. Sebastian and he have been dating for almost three years now, not long after they first met at University, and normally Sebastian goes home alone for Christmas while he had assumed that Jim also went somewhere to spend Christmas with people that he cared about. Jim has a brother somewhere, though the two apparently don’t catch up often, but Sebastian has always assumed that the two get together for the holidays. It wasn’t until this year when Jim admitted in casual conversation that his brother goes home to Ireland for Christmas, that Richard returns his their parents where Jim isn’t welcome even if he wanted to go home also, that Sebastian realised that Jim spends each Christmas alone. 

“Not this year, kitten.” Sebastian had promised. “Come home with me, it’ll be nice.” Nice in the way that Sebastian had assumed Jim might like a nice meal at the table and exploring the Moran estate, ever trying to take in new information. In the end Jim had agreed to come if it were only for a night or two, and only if Severin would also be there. He didn’t want to be the only punching bag at the table, he’d explained, and at least if Severin was there the two of them could enjoy each others company knowing that the older generation approved of neither of them. 

In truth, Jim was worried about how everything would go down. He knew he was different than the old money that owned the Moran estate, and while he didn’t see himself as lesser he certainly didn’t want to hear that he was from old drunk idiots who thought they knew what was best for their son, a man who they took very little interest in outside of holidays and birthdays. 

“You look like you’re going to be sick.” Sebastian parks the car near the front of his family home, knowing that soon somebody will be there to offer to park it somewhere more suitable. Jim stares up at the large manor with skeptical eyes as he bites absently at the side of his thumb. 

“I might be.” He admits. “That’s to be seen.” 

“Don’t worry they aren’t going to say anything, they’ll be too interested in saving face.” Sebastian assures. Jim doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t fight Sebastian on it either. He just gets out of the car before one of the staff can open the door for him and shifts awkwardly on the rocks of the driveway, not yet willing to stray too far from the safety of this boyfriend. He’s outnumbered here, and knows that while nothing will be said outright, there’ll be all too much that’s inferred by those at Christmas lunch. 

“Sebastian!” The crisp posh tone of the woman cuts through Jim like a knife, his eyes and head darting down as he feigns tying a lace while Sebastian moves around the car hurriedly to greet his mother. Hugs are exchanged and Jim realises that he can’t spend this long tying a shoelace that doesn’t even need to be fixed so reluctantly stands back up and shuffles over. 

“And James,” Mrs. Moran greets him stiffly, The hug is awkward, and the light kiss on the cheek like she might catch something from Jim even more so. “How good to see you both, how was the drive? Pleasant I hope.” 

“It was good.” Sebastian’s own accent becomes more crisp around his mother, and Jim knows now why he always comes back sounding a bit more posh. “The traffic wasn’t too bad, we actually made good time.” 

“Well, I would have liked to have you home for the whole time, but it’s good to have you here all the same.” Mrs. Moran looks at Jim as if it’s personally his fault Sebastian hasn’t been home, which in all fairness it is, but he doesn’t appreciate the accusation all the same. He chooses to keep the peace only because he values what he has with Sebastian more than settling any score with people he only sees at most every other year. Next year he’ll pitch the idea of them having a Christmas together, just the four of them, Rin, Seb, Richie and he. For now Jim is sure he can survive the next twenty four hours with the Moran’s. 

They’re lead inside and one of the staff take their bags. Jim feels like he’s in a hotel more than a home, not that he’s ever had a great gage of what should be expected in a home life. This is how the other side live, how Jim might live some day if he can ever get used to the idea of having strangers in his own home. He watches the staff member leave with their things and Sebastian puts an arm around him, a silent assurance that everything is going to be alright. 

“Come say hello to your Aunt and Uncle,” Mrs. Moran chirps. Now that’s she’s acknowledged Jim there’s no need to continue to talk to him, and Jim is happy for just that, to sink into the background and avoid any real conversation. He stands awkwardly in the door while Sebastian makes the rounds; he greets younger and older cousins, his Aunt and Uncle, none of them paying Jim any mind. He’s good at blending into the background, though even with such a skill he slowly feels the eyes of those in the room move to him. 

Jim would burn the house to the ground if it belonged to anybody other than Sebastian’s family. He has no time for people like this, people who look at him and the clothes he wears, who make assumptions based on his class rather than his worth as a human being. He’s smarter than everybody in the room, smarter than everybody he’s ever met, Jim could run circles around these old money snobs. He’s keeping the peace for Sebastian only, everybody else can go to hell.

“Hey Jim-bo,” Severin slides into the room, leans in close so that only Jim can hear him. He’s wearing his rugby jumper and smells more than a little drunk, and Jim is immediately glad for his company. “Been introduced to the family yet?” 

“Thankfully not.” Jim replies. “I can’t say I have much of a desire for that.” 

“Same here. Imagine having to know them all.” Severin laughs. Jim shudders at the thought. 

“Hey Seb, I’m gonna show Jim where the bathroom is.” Severin calls over the idle chatter in the room, everybody otherwise listening to Sebastian talk about how he’s school year has been going so far. Sebastian looks up, and gives Severin a short, thankful nod. 

“Would you mind showing him my room too? So he knows where our things are.” Severin gives a mock salute and ushers Jim out of the room. 

“Thank you.” Jim sighs, rubbing his face. “I know none of them like me, I wasn’t looking forward to a dozen people pretending to take interest in what I’ve been doing all year, or all my life I suppose.” 

“No problem-o, they’ve been making snarky comments about how Seb’s not come back like he normally has all week.” Severin hums. “Can’t say that you’d have a good time in there with them.” Jim’s heart sinks, and he considers making a fire look like an accident. Sebastian would probably still suspect him, even if there was never any evidence to link Jim back to it all. 

“I’m sure dinner is going to be great fun then.” 

“For you and me both.” Severin snorts. “Don’t worry, you and I are down the far end, with all the kiddies. The old man couldn’t even be bothered trying, Seb’s all the way up front with him.” 

“He separated us?” 

“He’s been telling everybody that you are Seb’s best mate, be prepared for a lot of pretty shitty conversations. They aren’t great people. You’ll probably be asked not to mention that you’re dating him, don’t want to upset the kiddies.” Severin nods. “Sorry Jim.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

Severin for his part does actually show him where the bathroom and where Sebastian’s room is. He also shows Jim where the library is which Jim enjoys the look of, and where Severin’s own room is. 

“Just in case you can’t get back to Seb’s,” He explains. “I’m sure somebody will try and cut you off from getting there, don’t want their golden child to- well.” He shrugs, burying his hands in his pockets. “Want a shot? There’s a nice bar in one of the other rooms that I’ve been raiding since I was about fourteen, good place to get away, it’s not as nice as the sitting room they use for guests.” 

“I should probably get back to Sebastian.” Jim shakes his head. 

“He’ll know where we are. I used to ‘go for a leak’ plenty of times and just end up here.” Severin assures. “Better than sitting through all their questions for the next hundred years.” 

“Just through dinner.” Jim jokes glumly. 

“At least by then we’ll both be drunk. Don’t worry.” Severin pats him on the back, and shows him to the bar. 

It helps to calm Jim’s nerves, though he’s worried it’s made his lips somewhat loose; both he and Severin are laughing about something, he can’t remember what, when Sebastian finds them. They’re both in armchairs near the fire that Severin tried and failed to light, Severin half slumped in his balancing a glass of whiskey on his chest, and Jim sprawled sideways with a glass of wine. 

“I see you two made yourself comfortable.” He chuckles, leant against the door frame of the room. “Dinner’s about to be called, we’re all about to sit down.” 

“Ah fuck.” Severin groans. Jim snorts as he slides further down the chair until he’s almost off it. “Just say we’re dead, say we’re dead and we’ve died or some shit, tell them I’m food intolerant.” 

“Nobody in their right mind would ever believe that Severin Moran was food intolerant.” 

“Tell them that they’re intolerant.” Severin shrugs. “Tell them they’re all fuckin’ awful and I want nothing to do with it.” 

“Tell them yourself, Severin. Come-on.” Sebastian sighs. He glances over to Jim with an apologetic look, holding out his hand for Jim to take. Jim sighs, nods, and puts his wine down. 

“You can’t leave me to sit at the table alone, Severin, we’ve got to stick together.” He says. Severin groans, knocks back the rest of his drink and stands, be it shakily. 

“Gotta protect you from that nasty case of Moran snotty-ness.” He nods. Together the three of them leave for dinner, and Jim’s glad at least that he’s hopefully drunk enough to just tune out completely. 

Sebastian is surprised that Jim and he aren’t sitting together, but Jim gives him a small resigned shrug as he moves down the table to sit with Severin and several small children. He’s glad at least that there isn’t a children’s table, that he’s sitting around with the adults, though it still feels miserable to be sat with them at all. Severin elbows him playfully and instantly pulls his bonbon by himself without any consideration for being polite. It makes Jim smile, makes him smile even more as Severin drunkenly puts his paper crown on Jim’s head declaring him the king before spinning the keychain he’d pulled from the bonbon around his finger. 

“I’m fuckin’ starving.” He mutters as he watches food begin to come out, and Jim can’t help but laugh when one of the younger cousins across the table instantly repeats what Severin’s just said much louder. It earns him an unimpressed look from her mother, obviously accusing Jim of the foul language, but he finds he doesn’t care all that much. It’s too funny to listen to the sudden echo of ‘fuckin’ hungry’ as the first course is brought to the table. 

They say grace before eating, and Jim’s glad that this isn’t some awful Christmas movie where he as the guest is asked to say it. He could probably remember what to say, but doesn’t have any particular desire to do so. He closes his eyes and bows his head, and instead recites the first thirty seconds of ‘Jive Talkin’ in his head out of spite.

Severin like the animal he is, dives into the meal as soon as everybody is done with their prayer. It takes all of thirty seconds after that for the questions to start. 

“So James,” God Jim wishes they’d just call him Jim, “I hear you and Sebastian share a dorm at the University. What are you studying?” Jim considers telling Sebastian’s uncle first that Sebastian and he share more than just a dorm, before politely smiling. 

“Mathematics, actually. Amongst other things.” His words fumble a little, he’s more than a bit drunk after all, but he keeps his tone fairly even. 

“Irish?” The man questions, as if that’s far more pressing than what Jim is studying. 

“Yes.” Jim’s not sure how else he’s supposed to reply to that, though he can wager where the man’s thoughts are going. Sebastian’s uncle hums and nods his head, and Jim wants to lean over the table and yank on his tie. His wife beside him mutters something under her breath and Jim tenses because he’s quite apt at reading lips, but they don’t say anything to his face. 

“You good?” Severin leans in close, he’s munching on a potato like he’s a starving prisoner. “What’d they say?” 

“That it wasn’t surprising I was drunk if I’m Irish.” Jim replies blandly. It’s a fairly overdone stereotype and he’s really only bothered because he’s trying to make an effort for Sebastian, which makes it cut deeper knowing that these people are happy to judge him on his heritage without knowing anything about him. 

“Oi Gorgie!” Severin is a little loud as he turns his attention back to the cousin who had started the swearing before. “Is it true that you got kept down ‘cause the teachers say you can’t write well?” 

Both Uncle and Auntie Moran turn red in the face, obviously unimpressed with the admission. The girl herself looks upset at being called out, ducking her head. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” He assures, turning his gaze to the adults. “Fuck anybody who says you aren’t clever, I can’t write for shit and I’m the coolest person you know, right?” 

That does seem to genuinely perk her up, and she nods broadly. “Yeah!” Severin flashes her a grin full of potato and leans back. 

“Fuck ‘em.” He says to Jim. “They’ve all got their secrets, and they’re all a hell of a lot worse than being fuckin’ Irish of all things.” 

From the other end of the table Sebastian looks down at both of them anxiously. When Severin catches Jim looking down at him he flashes his brother a double thumbs up. 

“I’ve got secrets for days,” He assures Jim. “Benefit to being the dropkick younger twin that nobody pays attention to, they rarely notice I’m in the room with them, all sorts of shit comes out when it’s just the adults talking.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

Severin ruffles his hair in a way that is apparently far too affectionately for Auntie Moran who balks at the action. Jim is fairly sure that she’s just jumped to some conclusion that is only half right, given that Jim is dating a Moran just not the one he’s sitting next to, and he can’t be bothered watching whatever it is that she whispers to her husband. He doesn’t need to deal with knowing that there’s an issue with both him being Irish and gay, he had enough trouble with that as a teenager. He wasn’t so stupid as to assume that adults would be any better than schoolyard bullies, but he had hoped that they would be polite enough to take it elsewhere. 

Still, with Severin beside him it’s hard to focus on it for too long, he’s outwardly enjoying causing a scene, and those around the table seem too used to his antics to do little more than roll their eyes. Jim wonders briefly if Severin is deliberately acting out for his sake, or if he’s always like this. If it’s the former Jim will have to get Severin a better Christmas gift next year. 

The second and third course pass without any real issues, for the most part everybody at the table seems to have a vested interest in ignoring both Severin and Jim, which both of them enjoy thoroughly. By the time dessert is being served however, the ‘adults’ at the table have all caught up to Jim and Severin in their alcohol intake and feel less inclined to hide their dislikes for Jim. 

“Mathematics, hm?” Uncle Moran brings up, as if they’re still having the same conversation from the beginning for dinner. “That’s vague, didn’t know that was something you can take. Real convenient to just study numbers.” 

“Mathematics plays a key component in many sciences, actually, I’m looking to go into consultancy work.” 

“Sounds like a cheap excuse to charge people for work anybody could do. Well unless maybe you’re as stupid as Severin, preying on people, are you?” he grunts. Jim frowns, and looks over to Severin whose glare could rival some of Jim’s best. 

“I doubt you’re capable of the mathematics I’m capable of.” He clips back. “I’d wager the only numbers you’re capable of working with are the numbers that make up your mistresses phone number, and maybe the circumference of her tits so you can buy her lingerie.” He has no idea if Uncle Moran has an mistress, he gathers information of people rather than being able to pluck things out of thin air, but it’s enough to cause a stir. The first question that’s asked is ‘what’s a mistress’ by one of the kids to which there’s a stilted pause, before Augustus Moran, the head of the family, hits his fist against the table. 

“Sebastian show your guest to the room. I won’t have that foul sort of talk at the table.”

“That’s what makes you kick somebody out? Fuck me should have said that years ago.” Severin calls back with little care. 

“Will you not swear in front of my children?” Auntie Moran hisses across the table, she goes so far as to reach out and slap at Severin, who just leans out of the way. 

“Nah, fuck that.” He shrugs. “I wanna be sent to the naughty corner to.” 

Jim pushes his chair and stands up. To be fair, he probably deserves to be asked to leave the table given his comment, he is a guest, he probably shouldn’t have said it.

“Jim— no.” Sebastian stands to, but hold as hand out to stop Jim from moving anywhere. “Dad, it’s fine. Uncle William started it.” 

“I did no such thing!” Uncle Moran protests. Jim stands unsure of what he’s supposed to do. Severin leans over and hands Jim his plate of pudding and his fork with a grin. 

“It’s alright, Sebastian, I’d rather just go lay down.” 

“No, it’s bad enough I even had to bribe you to come down with me, you shouldn’t feel like shi- it isn’t right that they can’t welcome you to the table.” Sebastian protests. 

“Well, perhaps you shouldn’t ask to bring your dorm mate home for Christmas, friends or not.” Mrs. Moran supplies.

“I don’t put my friend’s cocks in my mouth, mum, he’s my boyfriend, just say it.” 

The silence this time is so much worse, and this time Jim can’t handle it. He takes his plate of pudding and his fork, and leaves for Sebastian’s bedroom. The moment the door closes behind him the dinning room erupts into shouts from the table, and he’s glad that he’s stepped out. Jim books it for the room and is glad that he isn’t followed. He’s sure that Sebastian is in there defending his honour, but he refuses to stand in a room while a bunch of people he doesn’t know argue his worth. 

One day he’ll burn people like that, one day people like the Moran’s will come to him with their problems and beg Jim to fix them. 

Jim sits on Sebastian’s bed and eats his pudding. His eyes are wet and he vows to make the whole table pay for it. He’ll dig up every part of dirty laundry the Moran family has and extort them for everything they have. He’ll crash their businesses and take them for all their worth. 

Then they’ll see his worth, then they’ll see just how clever, how dangerous Jim Moriarty is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got drunk half way through writing this, I hope that the second half didn't suffer too much for it.


	14. Not A Creature Was Stirring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14\. Not a Creature was Stirring: Jim and Sebastian had an unconventional first meeting.

Sebastian has been waiting for his target for several hours now. He’s not in any rush, according to his reports on the target, the man in question doesn’t leave his home very often, instead choosing to work mostly from home. Whatever his unnamed target has done to win the ire of Sebastian’s employers is of no importance, Sebastian’s just interested in the paycheck and a good whiskey after it’s done. It’s cold out, and while the setup for the hit was an easy one, he’s certainly beginning to feel the chill.

As he watches the home of his target, Sebastian’s phone buzzes beside him and for a moment he doesn’t realise what it is. There’s only a handful of numbers that are programmed to come through Sebastian’s ‘do not disturb’ mode on his phone, and as he reaches up to his ear-piece to answer the call he assumes it will be Severin on the work phone. 

“Hello?” He keeps his voice quiet, even though there’s nobody around for miles to hear him, always better to be safe than sorry, Sebastian’s learnt. 

“Mr. Moran.” The Irish lilt surprises Sebastian as much as his phone ringing had, but he’s quick to compose himself. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time?” 

“Not at all, Mr. Moriarty.” Sebastian assures. If the man offers Sebastian a time sensitive job he’ll gladly get up and abandon his current hit. Moriarty pays well, and his work is always interesting. “What can I do for you?” 

“Oh just calling for a chat,” the reply is flippant, as Sebastian feels his rifle shift slightly as he frowns. It’ll be no problem, his target isn’t even in the room yet, but Sebastian schools his expression anyway. 

“Didn’t think you were the chatty type.” He replies, letting out a slow breath as he corrects his position. “Can’t say I want to pass up the opportunity though. Something on your mind?” 

“Mn, not really. Dozens of things but nothing for you to worry about, can’t spill my secrets to the handsome Mr. Moran, who knows what he might do with that information.” Moriarty chimes. Sebastian wonders if this is a test. 

“I’m more of a vault when it comes to secrets and business information actually.” He assures. “Got a leak somewhere, do you? It’s not me, I like the work too much to do something so stupid.” 

“Oh no, no leak, not anymore, dealt with it two days ago.” Moriarty assures. “Inevitable really, with so many employees and freelancers, can’t trust every disembodied voice you talk to.” 

“You’re a disembodied voice,” Sebastian points out. “You saying I shouldn’t trust you?” 

“You can always trust me, Sebastian. So long as you don’t go causing me any trouble I’ve got no reason to deal with the best sniper in London.” 

The use of his first name is jarring, though it always is when Moriarty chooses to be so casual. It’s a control tactic he knows, but it doesn’t make it any less off putting for him. He refocuses his attention down his scope, and Moriarty continues to talk, quick to catch onto why Sebastian’s so silent.

“I thought you said you weren’t busy.” 

“I’m not, it’s an easy job. Good vantage point, steady wind, nobody around for miles.” Sebastian hums. Perfect job really, worst there are. 

“Sounds a real challenge.” Moriarty drawls back. “You should just come work for me full time, can’t have you wasting away with such dribble.” 

Sebastian pauses. 

“A full time contract?” He asks. “Depends on what’s in the contract, I’ve heard that yours are a little strict.” 

“I’m open to negotiations, so long as you don’t try for anything stupid.” Moriarty offers, “People always complain about the little things.” 

“Is it true there’s a clause that says termination of contract means termination of death?” Sebastian asks. Moriarty hums lowly and sighs. 

“It’s always that one, yes. Only for the people who get to see my face, I’m not going about shooting all my employees, nobody would want to work for me no matter how good the money is.” 

Moriarty does pay very well, it’s certainly one of the perks to getting work from the man. Freelancing means Sebastian doesn’t have to worry about those sorts of contracts, but he has to admit he’s interested.

“Sounds like my kind of gamble, to be honest. I assume you want me for the same kind of work I’m doing for you now?” 

“Yes.” There’s the sound of paper in the background, and Sebastian wonders just what Moriarty is working on at the moment. He’s not about to ask, likes the surprise of a phone-call or email, and doubts Moriarty would tell him anyway. “Potentially something a little more close to me also, I’m looking for bodyguards I can rely on, and you do have the steadiest hands there are.” 

“Would that involve one of those death on termination contracts?” 

“Most likely, is that a hard limit for you, Moran?” Moriarty replies. 

“Nah.” Sebastian’s too much of an idiot when it comes to thrill seeking, Moriarty isn’t the first time he’s directly put his own life on the life for a stupid reason. “I’ll die eventually anyway, better a bullet from you than croaking from old age.” 

“Most people seem to want the latter, I’m surprised.” Moriarty sounds pleased all the same. “No interest in a long and happy life?” 

“I’m happy doing what I do now, don’t care about the end so long as I’m still doing what I like.” Sebastian hums in turn. 

His target finally enters the room, folders tucked under his arm as he strides towards his desk to sit down. 

“One moment, Mr. Moriarty. Got to take the shot.” 

“Oh goodie, I’ve always wanted to catch you in the act.” Moriarty sounds absolutely riveted. “Share with the class once you’re done, hm?” 

“What, you want photos?” Sebastian snorts. He takes the time to realign himself, his target obviously settling down to work and not simply searching for something in the room. He man’s sat at his desk, back turned to Sebastian, reading over whatever he’s just sat down with.

“I wouldn’t mind photos,” Moriarty replies. “People send postcards all the time, how is this any different?” Sebastian doesn’t reply as he focuses, and for his part Moriarty does stop speaking to let him take the shot. He appreciates that the man isn’t going to yap in his ear while he tries to focus. 

Deep breaths, careful with his grip, lungs three quarters empty and- 

How the fuck somebody didn’t mention that the target had bullet proof glass Sebastian doesn’t know, but he’ll kill somebody for it. 

“Did you just shoot my window?” Moriarty is a mixture of angry and amused, Sebastian’s target rises from his chair to examine the bullet that’s lodged halfway through the glass. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sebastian is less amused. He’s been set up, he’s sure of it. “Are you the fucking arsehole who hired me? Was this some goddamn test?” He’s got a reputation to uphold, he’s never missed a shot, and he wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the fucking glass nobody warned him about. 

“How did you get past my security?” Moriarty growls just as angry now, he’s measuring the distance between the shot and where he was sitting, and there’s some sick thrill and fear that runs through Sebastian when the man seems to look up and stare him straight in the eyes through the scope. 

“What security? There’s none in sight.” 

“God I just dealt with a leak, how is there another one?” Moriarty hisses. “Get yourself down here now, Moran, no time to sign a contract, I need to know everything you know.” 

“I know jack shit.” Sebastian replies as he kneels up and starts to take apart his rifle. He can’t see Moriarty from here anymore, and doesn’t know if that’s for better or for worse. “All I got was an address and a description. It’s not even a well paying job, I assumed you were some accountant or the like just hiding away doing mob work.” 

“Some accountant!” Moriarty scoffs. “Well I suppose it’s a good way to keep the hit low profile.” 

“Or just set me up to take the fall. You’d have to be an idiot to try your luck at Moriarty. Not even I’m that stupid.” 

“Just get down here.” Moriarty sounds as ready to kill as Sebastian is. “I’m going to have this mess sorted by dawn.”


	15. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midnight: They were supposed to be there at midnight.

The cutoff point had been midnight. That’s the agreed upon time that Sebastian and the idiots who lifted Jim off the streets have agreed to meet. He’s been sat waiting in his car for forty five minutes watching it get closer and closer to midnight and now that it’s hit twelve on the dot his anxiety has begun to set in. There’s nobody in sight, too cold out for anybody who isn’t dropping off four million pounds laced with explosives to try and get their boyfriend slash employer back, but it also means that there’s nothing for Sebastian to focus on. No drunk teenagers causing a scene, no gushing couple out after a movie on a romantic walk. Just the snow fall to watch and the burn of his smoke to try and keep him level headed. 

Jim is sure to kill him for blowing up that much money, but at least Sebastian will have gotten him back and the idiots who tried to ransom Jim Moriarty will be dead. Nobody is going to want to try that again after the mess he’s about to make. The money doesn’t mean anything anyway, not with how well business is going at the moment. It’s more a matter of principle, Jim will be mad that Sebastian said that he’d pay. Sebastian doesn’t know what the fuck else he was supposed to do though, it isn’t like he’s got Jim’s mind. He’s good at what he does, which is taking information provided and using that to kill people, he’s never been good at digging around for information, especially when he doesn’t know where to look. 

He should have never have walked out after that fight. If he had have been home Jim wouldn’t have been taken. Jim was right anyway, as he usually was when they had a fight about work, Sebastian shouldn’t have walked out. He’d just wanted a drink, something to calm his foul mood. When he had arrived back home the flat was a mess. 

Jim had tried to call him. Sebastian had let the message go to his message bank. 

Maybe if Sebastian had have picked up Jim wouldn’t have gone missing. 

He had assumed at first that it was just Jim getting revenge, that the man had staged the whole thing. Sebastian had laughed when he’d received the call, a million pounds for the safe return of Moriarty. Who would know that there was anybody to even call? Their relationship was fairly quiet, Jim had to be faking the whole thing. They had threatened to remove a finger to prove their point. Sebastian had laughed and told them to enjoy themselves then hung up. 

It only took them four hours to get three of Jim’s fingers to him. Sebastian had put them on ice the second that he’d realised what they were. They could have been anyones fingers if it weren’t for the small scar that was through Jim’s right pointer. He’d stabbed himself once trying to cut onions. Sebastian had made some smartarse comment and when Jim had stabbed the knife into chopping board to turn around and return the favour, he’d put the knife straight through his finger instead. 

The next call that came he told them that he’d pay. They raised the ransom to four million, and Sebastian tried to convince himself that Jim would absolutely cut off fingers just to prove his point. He wouldn’t of course, Jim used his computer too much to ever cut fingers off. 

They are supposed to be there. The drop off time was midnight. Sebastian checks his watch. It’s ten past. He lights up another cigarette. 

When it reaches the filter and there’s still no sign of Jim he lights up another and flicks the used one out the window. 

In total they’re forty five minutes late. Jim is pushed out of the back of the non decrepit BMW and towards the meeting point, Sebastian is out of the car as soon as he sees him, bag of money slung over his shoulder as he walks over as calmly as he can manage. Jim’s right hand is bandaged, and Sebastian can tell that they’ve done a bad job at looking after it by the blood that’s all over it. 

“You’re late.” He says as they all meet. The ransomer, who hasn’t even bothered to cover his face sniffs and shrugs. 

“Had some trouble with him.” The man jerks his thumb towards Jim who makes some muffled comment underneath the bag on his head. Sebastian holds the money out. 

“Hand him over. The money’s all there.” The man turns to one of the others behind him who steps forward to check the money. They won’t find the bomb planted inside, it’s one of the bags Jim has designed for such situations. Maybe not his kidnapping and ransoming, but for moments when he doesn’t want anybody to know just what explosives he’s brought to the party. 

The bag is checked over, before the man nods and Jim is pushed forward. 

“Merry Christmas, ‘Bastian.” Jim hums; his voice is still muffled, but at least now Sebastian’s close enough to hear him. 

“That’s not until tomorrow, boss, got you back before that. Happy Anniversary though.” Jim hums and nods, or at least Sebastian assumes that’s what he’s doing, he’s dwarfed by the bag. Sebastian moves forward and pulls the bag off before gesturing back towards the car. 

“Don’t think our fight is done just because I was briefly kidnapped.” Sebastian shouldn’t expect anything less, and he’s almost glad that Jim is feeling well enough to be snarky. 

“Course not.” He opens the car door for Jim and loads him in. “But we’ll get back to it once we work out what to do about your hand, yeah?” 

“I doubt there’s much you can do now, though I suppose a couple of prosthetic fingers would make me look rather like a Bond villain.” 

Christ, like Jim needs anymore of an ego boost. 

As they drive away, Sebastian hands his phone over. 

“Want to do the honours, Boss?” 

“Ooh!” Jim takes Sebastian’s phone, eager to blow it all up. “How much was it in the end?” 

“Four mil.” 

“Pocket change. What idiots, they could have easily squeezed more from you. Speaking of, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”


	16. Baby Please Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta. 
> 
> CW Suicide.

Jim vanishes sometimes. He’s gone for days, completely unreachable by any means. Not even the best of his men can find him, not even Sebastian can get a hold of him. When he comes back he always looks gaunt, he’s always on the verge of death and near impossible to talk to. Sebastian worries every time Jim steps out of the house and doesn’t tell him where he’s going; he’s learnt to see the warning signs and does whatever he can to keep Jim from running to wherever it is he goes.

He’s been so busy the last month with work that he hasn’t been home much, hasn’t been there to pick up on the usual signs that Jim gives off.

Jim had waited until Sebastian had gone to have a shower and wash a weeks worth of grime off of him. When Sebastian had come out fresh and wrapped in a towel he knew instantly that Jim had gone again. Jim had been in the lounge on his phone and considering there wasn’t currently any angry shouting there was no need for Jim to have moved rooms. He does a sweep of the entire house hoping that Jim has just gone and found something else to preoccupy his time but Sebastian knows from before he even checks the first room that Jim is gone.

It’s a waiting game now; Sebastian doesn’t know when Jim will be home, only that he will eventually come back.

Still he calls the man. Sebastian can’t help but call. He knows that Jim won’t pick up, he never does, but he can always hope.

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

Sebastian hates that damn voice message. He’s heard it so many times over the years that it occasionally haunts his dreams. Always when he needs to get hold of Jim, always taunting him with that lazy self satisfied drawl. You’re not important enough for me, it says, I’ll call back at a time of my convince, or won’t. Sebastian hangs up and dials again.

You’ve reached Moriarty—

Sebastian hangs up before he has to hear it all again. He’ll make Jim change that stupid thing when he gets back, even just to hear the same message with a different inflection would be enough. He realises that he’s still in nothing but his towel and goes to change. There’s no point sitting about naked on the couch, Jim won’t be back that fast.

The first twenty four hours is always the worst because Sebastian knows that it’s when Jim is at his most destructive. So far it’s only been two and Sebastian’s barely able to concentrate on anything but the screen of his phone. He’s done everything in his power not to call for a third time, but as his hand dashes out and grabs it from the coffee table he knows that he’s about to make up for lost time.

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

“Jim where the fuck are you? Come home, we’ve talked about this.” Sebastian doesn’t know if Jim ever listens to his voice mails when he’s gone, but he sure hopes the man does. “No running off yeah? Neither of us are supposed to. What the fuck was the point of—”

The message tone beeps and there’s a message asking Sebastian if he wants to send it. He does, because he’s hopeful every time that something in the message will get him to come back home. That something will inspire him to want to return.

He calls again, just to be sure.

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

“We said we’d work on it together, I said you could do anything to me, just so long as you don’t run off like this. Come home, there’s no reason to go out and do whatever it is you do on your own.”

This time he does manage to beat the beep, though ‘own’ is probably cut off just at the end. Jim will still know what he meant, Jim knows what Sebastian means without Sebastian even having to say it. Sebastian considers calling a third time, and then does despite himself, and leaves in total fourteen messages after that.

Jim always comes home so battered and bruised, always comes home looking close to death and like he’s been on a drug and alcohol fulled bender the entire time he’s been gone. Jim’s a chemist, Sebastian knows that the man knows how not to kill himself with anything he might be taking, but Sebastian is far more worried about the fact that Jim knows exactly what to do to kill himself.

He calls again at hour seven.

By hour eight Sebastian Moran has no idea what to do.

He gets the automated text first. Emergency Protocol.

Sebastian calls again, frantic and panicking

You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta.

“Jim, Jim tell me it’s a joke. Please fuck tell me it’s a joke.” Sebastian can’t breathe, he’s forcing words out through the little air he’s got left. “Tell me it’s a fucking joke, Jim. Don’t you dare do this to me I need—”

He’s cut off, so he calls again.

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

“I need you Jim, you can’t go, I won’t forgive you for this, this isn’t some haha funny joke, it’s fucking cruel, you can’t be— we’ve talked about this, we’re supposed to work it out together and—”

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

Sebastian calls again and again, he pleads down the phone, he knows that it’s only a matter of time before Jim calls him and laughs, tells him it was all a joke and ‘really Sebastian you should get so attached’, and ‘really Sebastian do you think I’d kill myself?’

He can’t be dead because Sebastian doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do without Jim.

His own phone starts to ring almost non stop but none of the numbers belong to Jim. Other people have gotten the message, they’re trying to work out what it’s supposed to mean. Somebody sends a text that says Sherlock is dead too. Jumped off a roof. Another one says that they just saw Moriarty blow his brains out.

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

“Jim this isn’t fucking FUNNY!” Sebastian can’t stop shouting once he starts, his voice is hoarse as he calls back again and again.

“You can’t go! You’re a fucking joke! A fucking joke Jim Moriarty!” He shouts.

“I love you, god please fucking stop, I need you, I need you Jim.” He shouts.

“I’m done, I quit.”

“I love you, I’ll do whatever it takes to make you stay, please.”

Eventually he loses his voice. The sky has gone dark and the news reports are full of what happened. In Jim’s glorious plan Sherlock is the one at fault. Hired an actor and had him play the part for his sick fantasies.

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

“Jim please.”

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta_.

“Jim come home.”

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

“Please.”

When the sun comes up Sebastian’s phone is almost flat. He hasn’t taken a single call, sent only one message out to the entire Moriarty empire.

COMPLETE SILENCE. GO UNDERGROUND. AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

He’s sat on the couch where he’d first started to make calls. He hasn’t been able to move from there. There are reporters now, on the news, on every fucking channel digging up this fake life that Jim had created for himself. Sebastian only wishes that Jim had vanished for one of his benders. That he’d stepped out to get whatever it was that filled up his system out in the usual destructive ways.

A package is delivered, and then another, and another. Sebastian only answers the door each time because he’s still hopeful that Jim’s just playing some stupid fucking game.

They’re instructions on what to do, keepsakes that were never Jim’s to put around the house. Jim wants him to play the part of the upset husband which isn’t exactly hard. They were never actually married, never put a definition on what they were or weren’t, but sliding that wedding ring onto his finger as if it’s been there for years makes him vomit from the stress and hurt of it all. Jim’s made sure every detail is perfect. Photographs, old audition tapes and taped recordings of his performances. Sebastian watches them all. He’ll memorize them in time he’s sure.

Eventually because he knows that he has to, Sebastian calls some reporter that Jim’s left the number of. The official story will be that Sebastian found it going through some of ‘Richard’s’ things. He calls her and then calls Jim a dozen more times. He’s sure that the message bank must be full by now, but he can’t stop calling. Sometimes he just listens to Jim’s voice then hangs up, other times he shouts down the phone long after the beep has sounded.

Mostly he just pleads for Jim to come home, to stop the game. To just let him know that he’s alright.

_You’ve reached Moriarty, leave a message, ta._

The call never comes. Eventually Sebastian stops calling.

Years later he does call the number again, he’s surprised when it picks up after half a ring.

“Jim—” he breathes out like he hasn’t been able to in years.

“Uh sorry, I think you have the wrong number.” A voice replies. The number has been transfered over. He’ll never hear that bored tone again.

“Oh.” Sebastian replies not sure what to do. “Alright.” He hangs up without saying anything else and tries to remember how Jim sounds when Sebastian reaches his voicemail.

Part of him still believes that Jim will one day come back to him. When he’s drunk he texts the number, occasionally he gets a reply; whoever is on the other end is nice enough not to just tell him to fuck off, they normally just let him text without interruption. It isn’t until he texts ‘I’ll see you soon kitten.’ That there’s any major change in the lack of responses. His phone lights up instantly with Jim’s old number, and foggy as his mind is Sebastian picks it up assuming that it’ll be Jim.

“Are you coming home?” He slurs. The medications he’s taken have slowed him down a lot, the alcohol even more. “Don’t worry, I’m coming to you.”

“Uh yeah-” The voice replies. It sounds like Jim, or maybe Sebastian just wants it to sound like Jim, he can’t work it out in this state. “But what’s our address again? Can’t remember, it’s been so long you know?”

Sebastian the idiot that he is gives the number. When he wakes up next he’s in a hospital. Suicide attempt, they tell him. The reporters eat that shit up when they find out. People write all sorts of articles about the widow who text his dead husband for years and the hero on the other end who saved his life. Whoever it is that has Jim’s numbers keeps the texts to themselves, refuses to share them, and for that Sebastian is grateful. He thanks them only once.

He would’ve been mad if I had have managed to do it. Thanks. SM

The text he sends immediately after is another plea for Jim to come home. He doesn’t try to kill himself again, and occasionally he gets a message from Jim’s phone asking him how he’s going.

They meet for coffee once or twice, but Sebastian admits that he can’t do it a third time. Seeing the other person on the end of the line is too much. He’s texts are always so much more erratic after they meet, and it’s not fair on either of them.

He manages to stop texting eventually. Assures the person on the other end of the phone that he’s not killed himself, that he’s just moving on. He still begs Jim to come home but now it’s just out into open air. He can’t remember what Jim’s voice sounds like, only has the approximation in all those home recorded videos of Richard Brook, the slightly off tone, not quite right soft Irish drawl that the mans alter ego has. Sebastian learns every line from every show and reel that he has of Richard, pieces them together in his head to talk to Jim.

Jim never comes home and Sebastian never stops asking. He’s sure one day the man will hear him and come back, it’s a waiting game, thats’ all.


	17. Wonder

Jim looks at the world with contempt, Sebastian sees him turn his nose up at all sorts of things. Nothing sparks interest for long, not even the continually growing list of criminal endeavors that they have lined up for this year and the next. The man is locked in a constant state of boredom, chasing that unreachable high in the hopes of not losing his mind one day longer. It’s a wonder then that the one thing that sparks any real interest in Jim is the stars. 

Sebastian has never thought much of them. They’re good for navigation, perhaps, if you’re really fucking lost sure, but there’s little that’s special about them. Jim doesn’t hold the same opinion though; he’s fascinated, talks at length about them, about space in general. Where most people might look and fear their own insignificance in such a large universe Jim is drawn to such an idea. 

“There’s more than we could ever hope to see or understand out there, Sebastian.” He says staring out past the cliff. “Millions of impossibilities, things nobody could even begin to imagine.” 

“I guess.” Sebastian hums in turn. “You mind standing a little further back from the cliff while you’re waxing poetics like that?” Jim turns only briefly to look back at Sebastian, but obliges, moving back closer to their telescope. 

“We’re just tiny little specks compared to all that. Compared to the stars.” 

“They’re the ones that look like tiny little specks, Boss.” Sebastian offers. “Can’t see you ever being insignificant to anything, not even the stars.” 

“That’s because you’re horribly in love, dear. In reality there’s nothing out there that’s ever heard my name. I could be anything and nothing out there.” Jim replies. “The whole universe offers up so much and so little, it just goes on, unstoppable.” 

“I’m sure the two of us could stop it. Space captains out on a ship taking over everything.” 

“You think we’d be space pirates?” Jim asks. Sebastian shakes his head. 

“You’d rule every star you could reach, and I’d make sure that nobody this side of Jupiter could touch you. Or the other side of Jupiter. Not even the stars could get to you.” 

“Now who’s being poetic?” Jim snorts. “I wouldn’t want that. I’d want a fight every step of the way, I want to be outsmarted, challenged. Out there I’m nothing, out there there’s surely somebody who can make it difficult for me.” 

“Maybe,” Sebastian looks up with Jim, slings an arm around his side, “Maybe there’s some spaceman up there looking out as well thinking the same thing. You two will meet some day I’m sure, nothing can stop you once you’ve put my mind to it.” 

Jim hums lowly, and Sebastian worries that he really will try and launch himself out into space to try and find this fictional spaceman. He’ll have to try hard to keep Jim on earth where he belongs. 

“How about for now we just keep looking from a distance? You can tell me more about the stars and I’ll pretend I understand all of it.” 

“It’s a wonder you can keep up at all.” 

“Yeah I wonder the same thing too, suppose you’re rubbing off on me. I’m getting smarter by proxy.” Sebastian jokes. Jim smiles and rolls his eyes, and Sebastian is sure he’ll kill any spaceman who tries to take this man away from him.


	18. Exhausted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhausted: Sebastian is questioned about just what he knows about Moriarty. He won't tell though, he'll never tell. CW Torture.   
> (part one of two, Escape is the second half to come)

“Where is Moriarty hiding in London?” 

“What business do you have with Moriarty?” 

“What business is Moriarty currently conducting within London?” 

Each question is asked with a fist to another part of his body, Sebastian strung up with his hands bound above his head, rough rope has rubbed both wrists raw and several weeks of blood sit caked upon his arms where they’ve freely trickled downward to mix with sweat and dirt. His shoes were taken the first day he arrived, his shirt eventually too tattered to remain on his back after constant whippings and jostled fights in attempts to get free. They hit him again and again, and again and again he says nothing. He keeps his mouth shut, or sings every Queen song he can remember by heart. Recites the alphabet backwards, counts as high as he can in every language he knows; anything to keep his mind sharp enough to not just shut down completely. Sebastian is still waiting for a moment to escape, some pivotal fuckup by his captors that will let him slip out but if anything they’re just getting better at torturing him as time goes on. 

He has no idea how long he’s been here. They moved him to a cell without a window what feels like a lifetime ago. He knows that they’re keeping his sleep schedule deliberately fucked, knows that they feed him at odd hours just so that he can’t keep track of what’s happening. Sometimes it feels like he’s gone months without food, other times he’s sure he’s only just finished one meal when the next comes. The water he gets is filthy, they tell him time and time again that they’ll give him better water if he’ll just answer one question. Each time he throws up from some new stomach bug he considers leaking something useless, something that isn’t true, that hasn’t been relevant for years now, but he’s sure as soon as he opens his mouth he’ll be sealing his fate, information true or not. They keep him around because they know that he’s somehow important to Jim, or to Moriarty as it were, they know because he’d laughed openly about how he’d be out of their hold in a fortnight and how he didn’t even have to do anything for that to happen. It had been a huge fuckup, giving that piece of information up. They’d doubled security, started asking other questions. 

Sebastian’s kept his mouth shut on anything related to business from that point on. They’re smarter than he originally thought, but Sebastian’s no fool, he doesn’t make the same mistake again. 

He does tell them other things, tells them about every shag he’s had in the Northern Hemisphere, tells them every hunt he’s been on, what it feels like to be ripped apart by a tiger, tells them the story of what he was fourteen and broke his leg trying to ride his bike down stairs. He digs up old memories and puts them to the forefront of his mind so that there’s no room for Jim. He doesn’t want to think about the man, doesn’t want to seem like he’s all that important even if he’d bragged about as much. He is nothing to Moriarty and Moriarty is a paycheck to him, he’s just some cocky bastard who thought he was more important than he actually was. 

He tells them that he’s never seen Moriarty’s face, doesn’t know what he sounds like. Says he’s only ever got emails from the elusive criminal mastermind. Never had direct contact, couldn’t tell them anything. Some of it they believe, other parts of his story they don’t. It’s hard to keep a track of every lie he’s told and he’s sure that he’s poked holes in his own story. 

They hit him again and again and again. This is just the warm up, they aren’t really trying yet. Sebastian can’t feel anything properly, he’s numb to it by now. It hurts, but before the hurt can fully sink in Sebastian’s mind shuts down just enough that he can’t really feel it. He focuses on the blood running down his arms, pictures what his wrists must look like today, and does his best to keep his feet underneath him. 

Christ he could go a nap. He’s sure they can see that too. 

“You’ve made this harder than it needs to be. Give him up and we’ll let you go get some rest.” 

Not let him go completely, Sebastian’s no fool and they aren’t fools either. At this point they’d have better luck offering a prisoner the sweet release of death more than anything else. Kill a man quickly, make it merciful, but only if he gives you what they want. 

Sebastian’s not getting that quick death, he wouldn’t sell Jim out for all the comforts in the world. 

His eyes are swollen shut so he doesn’t see them switch from fists to a metal rod. They strike him with it and Sebastian howls out in pain. No point keeping it in, he’s not proving anything with stoic silence. Better to get it all out and make himself feel better for it. 

His whole body must look like a misshapen lump by now for all the times they’ve done this to him. His ribs will never be the way they should be, he’ll suffer for years after this if he gets out. Jim better appreciate the effort that he’s going to for this. 

Sometimes Sebastian catches himself convinced that he really was nothing to Jim. His lies and the truth blur together and he can’t quite remember which one is which. Has he met Moriarty before? Who’s that Irish bloke he works with sometimes? He thinks of Jim’s delighted laugh and counts to a thousand in Spanish. Jim might still come, Moriarty would never. Sebastian’s a liability, Moriarty surely needs to tie up loose ends. Maybe he expects Sebastian to kill himself like a spy might bite that tooth and poison themselves. 

He’s run his tongue over his teeth a million times searching for a pill, sure that Moriarty might have snuck one in just in case. 

The beating continues and Sebastian tries to focus. Is it the same day? They’re asking different questions, when did he last get some rest? Did they feed him between interrogations? 

“How long have you worked for Moriarty?” 

“What affiliation do you have with Moriarty?” 

“Where can we find Moriarty?” 

They offered him a phone once, told him he had a single call. He hadn’t slept in days, they were dressed like police, he was so sure for a moment that he’d been arrested, considered calling Jim and pretending to be dialing his lawyer. The bright red rings on his wrists reminded him of otherwise. Interrogation. Where is Moriarty hiding? What do you know about Moriarty? 

Sebastian had flung the phone at the closest ‘officer’ and then flung himself. 

He can’t do that anymore, he can barely stand. Somebody brings him water, it’s filthy. He drinks it anyway throat parched and raw. 

He’s strapped down to a chair, they run a current through him until he’s sure he’s going to die. 

They near drown him in a tub while they’re trying to get answers. 

They make him to squats for hours, burn him when he can’t get his legs to keep up the action. 

The light remains on in his cell, there’s constant noise, he can’t sleep until he can’t physically stay awake. 

When is the last time he ate? 

“Where can we find Moriarty?” 

“What work do you do for Moriarty?” 

Sebastian gets sick of singing Queen, he starts on the BeeGees instead. He doesn’t know as many of their songs off by heart, they’re more Jim’s thing, but he’s surprised by how many he’s still able to recite. 

He wants to sleep, they won’t let him. Sebastian is sure they think they’re making some sort of breakthrough, that he’s going to spill everything he knows all in one big tidal wave but in all honesty he’s fairly certain that his body is going to shut down before that. 

There’s a point where he can’t breathe. They hit him one too many times and suddenly Sebastian feels like his body has completely forgotten how to do it. He sucks in air but it doesn’t go anywhere. 

This is it. This is the point where Sebastian Moran dies. Jim’s name slips from his lips as he feels himself falling into that quiet grey end. It’s violent and it burns worse than most things he’s endured, but he’s endured well and he’s finally got his reward. 

Only he doesn’t die. They want something out of him and they’re determined to get it. They have a first name now, and they want to know about that now too. 

“Who is Jim?” 

“What relation does he have to Moriarty?” 

“Where can we find Moriarty?” 

“Where can we find Jim?” 

Sebastian laughs and laughs and laughs until he’s sobbing, until his whole body shakes overwhelmed and unable to endure anymore. He just wants to die. Wants to do what good soldier’s do and keep the information to himself. He won’t give anything to the enemy, won’t tell them or a single soul anything that he knows. He repeats his name and rank over and over any time one of them pulls him out of his cell. 

The music they play amongst the static becomes Christmas carols. Sebastian is sure this is just another technique they’re using to try and ruin him. It had been February when he was taken, it can’t be December already, or maybe he’s surprised that it’s only December, it’s hard to tell. 

But it doesn’t ruin Sebastian further, it doesn’t make him want to give everything up knowing how long it’s been since he was taken. 

December is Jim’s favourite time of year, it’s great for business, it’s when they two of them became anything official. 

Sebastian will be damned if he’s going to stay here and miss their anniversary.


	19. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape: Continuation from Exhausted, Sebastian makes a break for it when the opportunity presents itself.

Sebastian is presented the opportunity to escape somewhere between ‘All I want for Christmas’ and ‘Jingle Bells.’ There’s a momentary lapse, in security, something pulls his captors attention away just long enough as they’re dragging him down the hall that he’s able to stumble forward and grab one of their guns. He struggles forward and fires the gun still half in it’s holster as he tries to pull it out. The shot is loud, louder even than the carols that he’ll never get out of his head, but it’s also a welcome noise that spurs Sebastian further into action. As one captor shouts and falls down, bullet in his leg, Sebastian pulls the gun free and turns on the other. 

He needs to be quick, there’s no time for vengeance here, not when he’s liable to collapse at any time. He downs one, then turns the gun back to the fallen man on the ground and kills him instead. He’d love to stop for shoes, but the shouts down the long corridor he’s become so accustomed to seeing pull him away from such a luxury. He turns and runs. Back past his cell, careful to round the corner gun first. 

Every step feels like he’s crushing glass into his feet, it’s hard to breathe, harder still to keep upright, but Sebastian will be damned if he’s staying here a moment longer. 

He slows his pace as he reaches the next corner, taking the time to consider each direction. Neither looks like it leads anywhere, there aren’t any signs, though after he turns down the right corridor Sebastian realises that the cell numbers on each door are going up. He turns around and sprints back the other way, stumbles over his feet but catches himself on a wall, and continues. 

He ignores how the edges of his vision are starting to grey. He can’t stop, if he stops he’s dead, and that’s not an option. 

Each corridor he runs down is a risk and more and more Sebastian rounds corners without checking. He keeps the gun ready to go, knows that he’s faster when he’s at his best and hopes that he’s faster near death as well. Faster out of spite, or maybe they just won’t want to kill him and they’ll try to immobilize him. Maybe they’ll want information still, maybe they still think there’s something to pry out of him. 

Sebastian hopes that Jim will take him back, he tries to focus on what he knows, what’s not a lie. Thinks about casual conversations rugged up on the couch, of Jim stretching out over the bed so far that Sebastian barely has room to sleep. He needs to get back to that, to his life, to what the two of them have in their flat. 

A wave of nausea hits him, and Sebastian almost tumbles himself. Three men round the corner and he barely makes the shots, it takes four to kill the last one, and by the time he’s done Sebastian is out of bullets. He takes one from one of the bodies and presses on, but if he doesn’t get out soon, Sebastian knows that he’s dead. 

He can’t stop running, he needs to keep going. 

It gets harder and harder with every step, his vision sways violently, his body protests with every movement that he makes, it screams out and burns as he pushes it far beyond what it should be pushed. There’s a door to his left, it’s unassuming but is also the only one that’s on the side of the corridor and after a long moment Sebastian realises that he’s found an exit. 

The door screeches in protest as he pushes it open, it takes all of his remaining strength to push it open wide enough to get through. The cold air and snow is as hellish on his body as the concrete floors he’s just spent months on. It sends a whole new type of pain through him, he’s got nothing but his pants on, and has no idea where he is. 

Sebastian doesn’t stop to consider going back inside and looking for clothing, he doesn’t have that luxury. Instead he runs. He needs to find a phone, a car, anything really. Needs to get in contact with Jim, needs to get home to him. It’s all Sebastian focuses on, does his best to push the pain to the back of his mind and heads for the tree line. He can lose his captors in there, there’ll be less snow, less tracks to follow unless they really know what they’re doing. 

He’ll be home in no time, just a matter of moments. One step in front of the other, he needs to keep going. 

One more step, Sebastian tells himself. Just one more step, and he’ll be home. 

In the distance, Sebastian is sure he can hear Jim’s irritated voice. He’s shouting about something, obviously not having a good day. 

“What do you mean you can’t find him?!” 

Sebastian doesn’t even register that ‘him’ might be him. He’s so sure that the voice is just his mind playing tricks that as he stumbles forward that Sebastian doesn’t allow himself to even consider that Jim might be closer than he thinks. 

He breaks through the tree line unharmed, or at least not shot. There’s a dozen cars in the clearing and Sebastian instantly raises his gun back up. He fires and kills three men before Jim’s crisp tone jolts him to a stop.

“Sebastian Moran put that thing down before you completely rid me of my security!” 

Sebastian drops his stance instantly and stares dumbly at Jim. 

“Sir.” He offers flatly. Now that he’s stopped moving it’s a whole lot harder to stay upright, or to stay alive at all. 

“Come here, stupid.” Jim clicks his fingers like he’s calling a dog, and Sebastian is glad at least to be moving again, even the few short steps across the clearing to Jim’s side. “God, I’ve spent the better part of ten months looking for you and the first thing you do is kill three people. I have to have that cleaned up you know.” 

Sebastian wraps his arms around Jim and holds him close. He breathes in Jim’s shampoo, his cologne, re-familiarizes himself with the way the man feels in his arms as he turns him around in a swinging bear hug. 

It’s only because of that that he sees his captors through the trees. He fires several quick shots but he’s already so spent that not all of them land. In a knee jerk reaction Sebastian turns Jim and he back around and pulls them down to try and protect the man he loves. He feels sharp pain in his back, there’s shouting, Jim’s men move forward everything happening mere seconds after Sebastian has fired his own shots. 

“Stay with me, Sebastian.” Jim’s voice sounds far away again, Sebastian wonders if he needs to move through the trees more. “That’s an order, stay awake or I’m going to disembowel you.”

Everything fades out to grey, Sebastian realises that he doesn’t hurt anymore.


	20. Christmas Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Gift: Sebastian isn't sure he should give Moriarty a gift, but he's willing to take the risk anyway.

Sebastian is nervous. He’s been working for Moriarty for around eleven months now, been at the mans beck and call for every little thing, killed on command, even been there on the occasion to open up a jar, but as far as he knows he isn’t at a ‘comfortable’ stage with the man yet. The only time Moriarty has even seemed a little bit human was drunk after a celebration. Sebastian had ferried him home completely sober, unable to drink on the job, and the little octopus of a man had demanded that he stay the night. Moriarty had wanted to ‘fuck so hard there’ll be an earthquake’ and Sebastian had turned him down only because of how drunk the man was, and so he’d ended up the pillow to the most dangerous man in all of London, who after going through some sort of plan that made Sebastian’s head absolutely spin quietly whispered his first name in a slur that Sebastian couldn’t actually understand and passed out cold until late into the afternoon of the next day. 

They weren’t friendly, or maybe they were friendly but not friends. Close, though only as close as Sebastian needed to be to keep Moriarty safe. 

So why the hell had he thought it a good idea to get the man a gift? 

It was probably Moriarty’s obsession with Christmas. Sebastian had turned up at Moriarty’s residence one day to see the biggest fucking tree he’d ever seen, the ones from his childhood included, and half the lounge covered in Christmas decorations. 

“Help me put these up will you?” Moriarty had drawled, standing back to admire his half decorated tree, baubles in his arms. “You’re arms are longer than mine, you can reach without me having to get out the step ladder.” 

Sebastian had inevitably needed the step ladder, and the whole experience had been a bizarre one, but Sebastian hadn’t found it unpleasant. Moriarty occasionally had him wear a Santa hat to meetings, and he’d threatened more than once to fill his gun case with jingle bells, but for the most part December had been far better than most of the rest of the year. The work was better, more readily available, and Sebastian found that in general people within Moriarty’s employ were less on edge any time one of them came in contact with him. 

“He loves Christmas.” Baker had hummed once, as Moriarty enthusiastically explained his new plan of action to some rich client. “More work, apparently, well, obviously I suppose. He’s like this every year.” 

“I hope he doesn’t expect gifts from us all.” Sebastian had joked. The puzzled look was enough to tell him that Moriarty didn’t. 

“Give him a gift?” Baker shook his head. “I’d rather try my luck with a hungry alligator.” 

Sebastian had done that once, and for whatever reason he decided that it would be better to try his luck finding a gift. Couldn’t be any harder than what he’d already done for Moriarty, surely. 

It is, and it just about sends Sebastian mad. 

The crowds are terrible, and between running all over London working and running all over London trying to find a gift for the most dangerous man in London, Sebastian is fairly sure he’s aged about a decade. He’s found something though, and while he was absolutely sure that Moriarty would love it when he found it, now that he’s waiting for Moriarty to come out of his office for the day Sebastian isn’t so sure. 

He runs an anxious thumb over the ribbon around the box. The glass bauble inside has survived a few dangerous trips, Sebastian’s been trying to work out when the best time to give Moriarty the gift might be, if he should tell the man to wait until Christmas to open it, or give it to him before then, to present it before the year gets too busy. 

It’s Christmas Eve now and it’s certainly too busy, but if Sebastian doesn’t offload the damn thing to Moriarty soon he’s going to accidentally break it somehow. 

Moriarty comes out of his office looking in a good mood, pausing only slightly as he sees the box in Sebastian’s hand. 

“Is that for me?” He asks amused. Sebastian nods, swallows thickly, and holds the box out. Moriarty saunters over, takes the box and moves as if he’s about to shake it. 

“Ah- it’s fragile, sir.” Sebastian is quick to act, he doesn’t want to see it shattered. Moriarty raises an eyebrow but doesn’t shake the box. He pulls at the ribbon and drops it on the ground before pulling the lid of the box off. 

“My, aren’t you pretty?” 

It’s a glass blown bauble, a magpie swooping inside the orb, carefully painted and decorated with intricate details, the bauble itself patterned much like a scotch glass might be. 

“I know it’s a bit odd to get you a gift, but you seem to enjoy the season so much, thought it might be nice.” He explains lamely, trying not to sound like a complete idiot. “It reminded me of you.” 

“It certainly has my flare.” Moriarty agrees. “I’ll put it in the tree, somewhere central to really show it off.” He steps forward and does as much, though as he steps back to admire his handiwork Moriarty trips on his rug. Sebastian is quick to move forward and grab him in his arms. As Moriarty looks up at him the man snorts.

“How very Hallmark.” He teases. “Now it looks like we’re destined for one another.” Sebastian wills himself not to look like some lovesick puppy. He hopes it works, though doubts very much that it does. 

“Doesn’t sound so bad, we’d be a good match, you the most dangerous and me the second most dangerous.” 

“Maybe I’ll let you kiss me if you can remember my name.” Moriarty laughs. “I remember telling you that night, the gentleman that you were.” Sebastian helps Moriarty back to his feet, and steps back a respectable distance. 

“To be honest sir I didn’t catch it the first time, you were fairly drunk and hard to understand.” 

Moriarty shrugs and gives a fake grimace. 

“And here I thought you’d forgotten it, Moran.” He holds his hand out, as if they’re meeting for the first time.” 

“Jim Moriarty. Hi.”


	21. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 21\. Winter: Sebastian's car breaks down and a stranger leads him through the woods in what Sebastian assumes is an attempt to help him out. He is wrong.

Sebastian’s car broke down in what had to be the most isolated place in Ireland. He’d gone for a drive on a whim, the night calling to him, antsy and in need of a break from his oppressive Grandparents and their Estate. As an adult, he had that free will, but he had snuck out all the same like some sort of teenager. He always feels smaller visiting them; decorated army Colonel, successful in his field, and yet still not quite enough. Most of the time it doesn’t bother him, tonight it had, and he’d needed to get out. He’d had a cigarette on the balcony looking out at the stars and decided that rather than just sitting in a guest room sulking he’d get some proper fresh air. 

He should have stuck to chain smoking on the balcony, should have taken solace in the fun that was dropping butt after butt into the bushes below, knowing how much his Grandmother hated it. Stupid damn car. 

Better than that though is that his phone is flat. Sebastian remembers it being fully charged when he left so the fact that it’s flat is more than a little odd, but Sebastian puts it to rotten luck and the universe having a good fucking laugh at him. 

He walks back the way he came. It’ll be a long march if he doesn’t come across somebody else out on the road and it’s fucking freezing, but he’s been through worse. One foot in front of the other, just like always. He’ll make it back, have a hot shower, and deal with the car in the morning. He thinks about his bed, thinks about the second packet of smokes he’s got stashed in his other jacket over the chair in the corner of his room, and tries to ignore the fact that he’s in for the lecture of his life when he gets back. 

“Sebastian Moran,” His Grandmother will say, “In what world do you think this is acceptable behaviour? Why can’t you be more like your brother?” 

She’d straight up die if she knew what Severin is really like, Rin’s just always been better at playing good. He’s a people pleaser, even if he gets into three times more trouble than Sebastian. Sebastian scoffs to himself, his breath visible as he stuffs his hands further into his pockets to try and keep warm. Maybe he’ll just sleep out in one of their sheds with the gardening equipment. Maybe he should just go back to his car and sleep there. Wait for somebody to pass and wave them down. 

He really likes the idea of sleeping in his bed though, it’s so damn cold, cold enough that Sebastian is sure it could snow. He’s only got his jacket on, it wasn’t this cold when he left. 

The universe really is having a good old laugh at him. 

Sebastian’s walking for about an hour before he spots the man off in the tree line. Sebastian doesn’t slow down until he’s close enough to call out without shouting. He keeps a careful eye on the man, curious as to why he’s off in the trees rather than out on the road, and wonders too why he’s so far out. Maybe there’s a cottage out in the trees, maybe he’ll be able to get some help for his car. That’d be nice because as he had predicted it has started snowing and Sebastian’s really suffering for it. 

“Nice night for a walk,” He deadpans as he gets close. “Could you help a fella out?” 

The man rearguards him slowly, eyes raking over Sebastian in a way that makes him uncomfortable before the man nods and gestures back into the trees. 

“Car break down?” He asks. There’s something in his tone akin to amusement, like he knows more than he possibly could. It sends alarm bells off in Sebastian’s head, but he still approaches like the fool that he is. 

“Yeah, a while down the road, I think it’s the battery.” He replies. The dark haired man nods again as he leads Sebastian into the woods. “”You live near here?” The man doesn’t look like he’d be hard to overpower, but Sebastian knows not to underestimate people. 

“I do, yes.” The man confirms. There’s something about him that still doesn’t seem right. As Sebastian looks at the back of his head he is sure that he can see small ice crystals in his hair, and his skin looks almost white, like he’s been out in the cold all day yet he seems completely unaffected. 

“Is it far?” Sebastian questions. The man shrugs. 

“Not that far if you know the way.” Sebastian sure he isn’t particularly okay with that answer, but he follows along anyway. What else is he going to do? Continue to walk down the road until he’s back at his Grandmothers? Following a potentially dangerous stranger into the woods sounds like a better option. He briefly considers all the tales his grandparents used to tell him about all manor of beings living in the woods and can’t help but laugh a little at the idea of the strange dark haired man being one of them, which makes the man ahead of his pause and turn to look, but Sebastian gives him a reassuring shake of the head. 

“Just seems like a bad idea to follow a stranger into the woods, there’s enough stories that tell you why that’s a bad idea.” 

“Which one of us is the stranger in this story, I wonder?” The man replies. 

“I’m Sebastian.” Sebastian offers, he hadn’t considered the idea that the man was technically putting himself in as much hypothetical danger as Sebastian was in trusting a man he’d found in the woods. He hopes his name brings some sort of comfort, it’s unfortunate, but the Moran’s are an old money family that’s been in the area for generations, and he’s sure if the man lives close by he would have heard the name. “I’m visiting my Grandparents for Christmas, see, not a stranger.” He smiles. 

“Guess that makes me the stranger then.” The man’s voice is coy and light, and Sebastian feels utterly trapped by it. 

“Not far you said?” Sebastian asks admittedly more worried than he’d like to be.

“Not far.” The man agrees. “Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe with me.” 

It’s getting colder, and the trees now stretch up above them both forming a canopy that completely blacks out the night sky. It’s hard to see, in fact Sebastian’s not sure how he can see at all, and he’s about to thank the man but turn around when they reach a small clearing, an assortment of large stones forming the better part of a circle that the man happily walks into. 

Jesus fuck, Sebastian thinks, he’s walked himself straight into some weird cult shit. 

“No need to look so concerned,” The man assures. “You may call me Moriarty, if you must have a name, I suppose that’s fair given you gave yours to me without really thinking of the consequences.” 

“What does that mean?” Sebastian frowns. 

“All sorts live in these woods, Sebastian Moran, you’re lucky that it was I who found you and not something more malevolent.” Moriarty smiles, tilts his head one way and then the other as he watches with dark curious eyes. “Come into my circle, my Sebastian, and let me show you just where I live.” 

Sebastian’s legs move against his will, as if his body is no longer his own, and he realises he might have made a mistake in trying to put Moriarty at ease. His footsteps crunch against frosted grass, and When Sebastian looks down he can see that where Moriarty has walked there is an icy path that’s been left. 

“What are you?” Sebastian breathes. 

“Many things,” Moriarty replies amused. “Though mostly for now, and I suppose most pressing to you, I am your new master, your King, and you are mine to do with what I please.”


	22. Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22\. Miracle: It's a miracle they're alive. CW: Drunk driving, and accident caused by such

They have good days and bad days, sometimes together, sometimes separate. They’re lucky to be alive really, though Sebastian isn’t so sure that Jim would consider that so. He’d been drunk, Jim hadn’t slept in four days, the meeting had gone terribly. All they wanted to do was go home and forget the entire day. Sebastian remembered that much. He remembered siting with Jim drinking and drinking and drinking. Remembered Jim scolding for having so much while trying to stay awake at the table and finish his email. There was something about blackmail, Jim needed the time to tie everything up before they went home. Maybe if they’d gone home sooner, if Jim hadn’t been so insistent on finishing his work while they were out they wouldn’t have gotten into an accident. 

Jim doesn’t know how to drive, he’s never bothered, takes too much joy in being chauffeured around. Sebastian should have called somebody else, but Jim was falling asleep at the table and he just wanted to get the other man home to bed before he decided to take something to keep him going. 

He should have called somebody else. 

When he closes his eyes he can still see the headlights suddenly in view. He still doesn’t know where they came from, doesn’t know how he missed them. It’s all he can remember, after that it’s just a lot of black. 

Jim came off worse than him. He’s wheelchair bound now, and while the doctors say there’s still a chance he might recover more and be able to walk, for the time being they’ve had to change their game plans. 

Jim doesn’t see it as a weakness of course. He finds it inconvenient at times, curses Sebastian out and gets frustrated at the help he now requires after being an independent person for so long, but he’s taken it in his stride, accepted it and done his best to readjust. He struggles much more with the fact that his brain isn’t as fast as it once was. He’s been slowed down not just physically but mentally. His mind wanders off, he forgets things quickly, sometimes as quickly as it takes to get form one side of the house to the other. He sits there frustrated and upset and swears until Sebastian’s sure that he’ll just go find a knife and run into Sebastian for what he’s done. 

Sebastian knows that Jim will never forgive him for what he’s done, and Sebastian doubts that he’ll ever forgive himself either. 

He’d been lucky, the paramedics had said so. Apparently it’s incredibly common for drunk drivers to fair the best in accidents. They’re bodies are loose, they don’t brace for impact, and because of it often come off car better than somebody who might try to protect themselves by trying to hold on. It doesn’t help that Sebastian had also swerved, that he’d put Jim right in the line of fire, that the car still was struck and rolled, only the car was struck from Jim’s side. 

It’s a miracle that they’re alive, that’s what people keep saying. It’s a miracle that Moriarty survived the crash, there’s rumours that it was an attempt on his life, nobody knows that it was Sebastian’s fault, that he was drunk and an idiot and nearly killed the man he loved. 

It’s a miracle that they’re alive. 

Jim scoffs at the idea. 

“It’s not a miracle.” He says, shaking his head. “There was no Divine intervention, it was just luck. Luck that the response time was fast and luck that nothing critical was punctured.” He shifts in his chair and looks down at his legs but says nothing. Sebastian swallows thickly and nods. 

“Not a miracle. I’ll pass that around.” The men will like that, it’ll sound like Moriarty is just the same as he was before. Don’t talk any nonsense, just keep going with work. 

“Your therapy going well?” He asks. Jim shoots him a glare and pointedly doesn’t answer the question. The physical therapist that comes around each Thursday never tells Sebastian how Jim’s progress is going, Sebastian’s fairly sure that Jim has barred her from saying anything. She’s a strict woman, Sebastian hears her occasionally telling Jim off, she gives him a talking to at least once a session. Jim shouts back just as he always does when an employee gives him lip but she remains on their payroll. Jim must like her enough to keep her around. 

Sebastian had a few cuts and bruises, he still gets some pain from time to time, but he does alright. He tries to blame all sorts of things for the crash. There was too much snow, the road was icy, the other car came from nowhere. 

The other driver had died on impact. Sebastian’s due to appear in court for it but he’s sure that Jim has it handled. The unfair reality of the world is that anybody with enough money can get away with things like this, though Sebastian has to admit that this might be the one kill that sits heavy on his heart for the rest of his life. 

Usually Christmas is a busy time for Jim, he’s constantly in and out of the house, constantly chattering away about work, but this year he’s had to slow down. He’s forgotten and missed appointments, and had to cut half a day every week just to make room for his physical therapy. Sebastian’s also painfully aware that Jim hasn’t given him any work since the accident, and he’s sure it’s not just because Sebastian got a little banged up. He’s being pushed, and rightly so. 

“Can I get you anything while you work?” 

Jim ignores him, continues on. Sebastian wonders if the man will have him killed for what he’s done. He doubts their anniversary will happen at all. He does what he can to continue on, and hopes that one day he’ll earn Jim’s forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not huge on this one, perhaps I'll revisit it another time.


End file.
